


Impressions Corrected

by Laranida



Series: Important Impressions [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Gen, Protective Avengers, Spanking, Team as Family, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:16:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8275745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laranida/pseuds/Laranida
Summary: Pietro is jealous about all the attention Peter Parker gets from the team. He wants to make sure he's still Clint's priority but things spin a bit out of control. This is another companion piece to andromyntra's  series named Bringing up Spideyin fact it takes place directly after the second part: The Army Treatment (Which is actually set before any of the events of the first part: How to Train your Spider) Everything is set in an AU where spanking is the most common and accepted punishment. So consider yourself warned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [andromyntra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/andromyntra) who not just let's me play with the background of her story but also did the proofreading.
> 
> You are wonderful.

Clint was exhausted, Pietro had been in a pissy mood ever since the team had doted on Peter during breakfast. Yesterday the other boy had pulled something that without doubt would be ground for a spanking but Stark had flat out refused to do that and left disciplining his ward to Steve.

Not just was Cap a total wreck after yelling at the kid until he broke down, when he had finally managed to go to sleep after talking things over with Natasha and Clint, they had all been woken by Jarvis to deal with Peter having nightmares. Hence the special treatment at breakfast. Hence Pietro's mood. Hence sitting down with Steve to talk about the situation the second night in a row.

“You should have just spanked him, Cap. Couldn't have gone over worse and you're the one stuck with doling out his punishments anyway.” Clint threw out there once they were all seated.  
“It wouldn't be appropriate.” Steve responded sourly.  
But the archer wasn't ready to let that possibility go: “Why not? You're the commanding officer.”  
He could tell that was considered carefully. “But Tony signed up to be his guardian.”  
Clint snorted: “And doing a stellar job so far.” He relented at Steve's look. “I don't doubt he's the best equipped to work with the little genius in the lab but the kid has been testing his boundaries since he got here and he won't stop pushing until he finally gets that spanking.”  
Natasha let her voice be heard for the first time: “Clint's right. It's also not fair to the twins. How can they be part of our team if there are different sets of rules for different people?”  
Steve sighed: “The truth is, as bad as Stark's excuse about “not knowing how to spank" is. I guess, I feel the same way.” He pulled at the label of his beer bottle and wouldn't meet their eyes. “I mean there was corporal punishment in the army,” he trailed of, sighing again, “and I got spanked as a kid of course but Peter is so tiny. What if I hurt him with my enhanced strength? It's not as if I'm experienced in that regard.”  
“He's a teenager. A superhero in training. He's not exactly breakable. You've sparred with non-enhanced people all the time.” was Natasha's response.  
And Clint built on her opening: “I know it's not easy, because it sure as hell is not easy for me or anyone I ever talked to about it, but if a child steps out of line, you have to do what's best for them and in this case for the team.”  
“Still think Tony should be the one to step up.” was the sullen reply. They all tended to forget how young Steve was considering the year he'd been born.  
But Clint knew they were getting somewhere: “Then convince him. You managed to convince me to take care of Pietro when that meant even less time to, you know, go home.”  
Steve looked stricken at the veiled mention of Clint's family. “Yeah, I'm sorry.”  
“Don't be”, he hurried to say, “just set things right. Now excuse me, I have a call to make and a brat to check on before turning in.”

Talking with Laura over a secure line was, as always, a highpoint of his day. Although he did feel a bit bad that he sometimes preferred it to actually being with her and the kids. He loved his family but being with them had other rules than being with his fellow Avengers, and both situations felt surreal if he thought too much about it, but his work less so. He had gotten used to it over the years in a way he hadn't been able to replicate for normal family life.

Pietro wasn't in his bedroom on Clint's floor, but that wasn't a cause for concern. Sometimes, especially after an emotional day, the twins liked to bunk together. But when he found Wanda safe and soundly asleep in her room without even a trace of her brother having been with her, he considered waking her to help him find the wayward teen.  
Thankfully he knew better than inciting Tasha's wrath over a matter that could probably be solved easily in another way. He quietly closed the door to her room and texted his best friend and recent co-parent to let her know what was up: **Q. AWOL, W. asleep. Maybe sit with her while I go looking for Q. Her dreams might be affected when I find him.**  
He didn't have to wait long for a reply. ( _On my way._ )

One potential problem taken care of. Clint decided the easiest option was also the most promising regarding success. Upon returning to his quarters he asked: “Jarvis, can you locate Pietro?” “Yes, Agent Barton.” Was the immediate and just a little bit infuriating reply. “What is his location?” Clint specified his question. “He is in the game room.” “Ah.” The adult-free zone. He could go fetch him or: “Please tell him to come to me.” “Certainly, Agent Barton.”  
When nothing happened within the next five minutes, Clint grew concerned again. “Jarvis?” “Yes. He's on his way but he's walking slowly.” Clint snorted. If Jarvis tone wasn't so amused, he would have been alarmed. “What, is he drunk?”, he deadpanned. “Pietro Maximoff has a calculated blood alcohol level of 0.12%”  
“WHAT THE --- JARVIS! Why didn't you tell me about this before?” Clint sprinted towards the elevator. “He said it was part of an important experiment.” answered the AI in a disapproving tone. “Where is he now?” Clint ground out between clenched teeth.  
“He is nearly at the elevator on his level.” “Good, take me to him.”

The ride was smooth and the terror made room for burning anger when Clint laid eyes on Pietro, grinning and staggering towards him. “You didn't see that coming, old man.”, the kid crowed triumphantly.  
And just like that his mentor was too mad to even speak. Only slipping his arms under Pietro's to hold him upright for the short ride to their floor.  
There were a lot of questions. How did he get the alcohol? How did he know that Jarvis would not alarm anyone if it was for the sake of an experiment? And of course: Why would he do something so stupid?  
But now was not the time to ask them.  
So Clint stayed silent and listened to the stuff that poured out of Pietro's mouth in his inebriated state.  
“You look, you look like that time the bad guy tried to hide behind Natasha”, Pietro laughed, slurring the words together. “Total moron.”  
“Guess that tells me how smart my idea was. But I'm not the smart one, that's Wanda. And Peter, Peter is a fucking genius. Even when he's in trouble he just hangs his head and everybody fawns over him.” Pietro drifted between talking Sokovian and English. Luckily, Clint knew enough about his ward's mother tongue to understand the gist of it – it wasn't that different from Russian – easy to pick up one if you already knew the other. Another point in favor of him taking the guardianship with Nat.  
He was still angry at the teenager but this was exactly what he'd been talking about and if Tony Stark had not shirked his parental duties this situation could have been avoided. Hell, for all he knew it probably was Tony's alcohol that Pietro had gotten into.  
“You don't talk. I thought you'd yell at me.”, Pietro eyed him skeptically. “Did I piss you off enough to leave despite ---?” The kid seemed to lose that trail of thought. “But you're still holding me, that's nice.” He stumbled and Clint kept him from falling down. “Real nice. Don't deserve anyone being that nice.”  
He probably should say something to the kid now that he went from euphoria to self-loathing. But first he manhandled him into the bathroom and sat him down on the toilet lid. “Don't think you can get away with this stupidity. You're still stuck with me.” he told the drunk roughly and earned a sloppy grin. Then he filled the toothbrush mug with water and handed it over. “Drink!” Pietro emptied the mug obediently, just to have Clint take it away and fill it again. They repeated the process a few times before Clint was satisfied that he had managed to hydrate the kid and that's when Pietro threw up into the sink.

Clint was rubbing the boy's back through the ordeal when he realized that he hadn't given Natasha an update on the situation. “Jarvis. Please send Natasha a text that Pietro was still in the tower and that I'm taking care of him. Tell her that I'm not planning a punishment right now so Wanda should be able to sleep about as peacefully as any other night.”  
Pietro tried to say something but was retching too hard to make himself understood.  
“Sh, kiddo, everything's fine. You'll get through this.”

When Pietro was able to pull himself together and sat back down. Clint wet a towel and cleaned his face before holding the mug out for him again. This time it was met with protest: “No.” “Drink, Pietro.” “No!”  
He was a professional secret agent. An uncooperative teenager was nothing he couldn't handle. Right. “It will make you feel better.”, he coaxed. “I know it's hard to believe but your body getting rid of the junk is actually a good thing. Now you need to hydrate again.”  
Reluctantly Pietro sipped the water and didn't further protest the refills. In the end he appeared visibly more sober and Clint handed him an Aspirin with the last dose of water. “Take it.”, he ordered and started to untie Pietro's shoes. “I can do that myself.” The younger man tried to fight the paternal gesture and Clint easily agreed: “Course you can. Might not even fall flat on your face if you tried. That's not the point.” He felt the urge to fling the shoes but resisted and arranged them neatly. Projecting a calm image was important to get this situation taken care of. He prepared the toothbrush and handed it over. “Brush your teeth.”  
Pietro eyed him, appraising his options and stood up to obey. He grimaced at the mess that still clung to the sink after the older man had rinsed it ineffectually. But it didn't make him sick up again so that was a sign he was getting better. Once his teeth were clean the teenager seemed coordinated enough that Clint felt confident to finally lead him to his bedroom and leave him alone for a few minutes. “Put on your nightclothes. I'll get some stuff.”  
Clint retrieved another Aspirin, a glass of water and a bucket before returning to Pietro's room. He put the pill and the water on the nightstand and the bucket on the floor next to the bed. Pietro was pacing nervously. “Slip in.” Clint instructed gently and the boy did so, let himself be tucked in without another word but he didn't relax until Clint moved a chair to the bed, sat down and started to comb fingers through the silvery strands of his hair while humming a gentle tune.

Clint felt about ready to fall to pieces once Pietro had drifted off. He'd been tired before he found the kid missing but now it was a weariness that had settled in his bones. He had never felt so old before without being physically wounded.  
When he managed to pull himself together and went back to the bathroom, he couldn't contain the whine of “Awww, sink, no.” about the state of it. But he immediately started to scrub it clean. He brushed his teeth, purposefully ignoring the urge to settle his mind and stomach with a drink. He wondered if he could wake up Natasha but didn't see the point of both of them being tired in the morning. He also considered phoning Laura before he simply went back to Pietro's room to keep watch over the brat for a little while.

They should visit the farm together, soon. There was enough space for Pietro to really stretch his legs and he was great with Lila, Cooper and little Nathaniel. Laura would get a bit of rest and Clint could spend some quality time with all of them. Wanda and Natasha probably could use the distance to concentrate working on some harder maneuvers and it just was time for another visit. He hadn't been there for months.   
It was decided then and he went to the living room to text Natasha. She'd help him find the best date. He also started on a formal request for time off to Steve. It wasn't strictly necessary (especially since he could be called in for emergencies) but it felt right – a grown-up thing to do. Unlike what he was planning to do next.

 

Master Assassin Clint Barton was sneaking through the Avenger tower on a mission. He had instructed Jarvis to call him in if Pietro seemed to get distressed (the alcohol could easily lead to repressed memories coming to the forefront of his mind while being asleep) and then he had started his journey to the community kitchen.  
It hadn't been easy to think of stuff only Stark ever used in the shared rooms but the blender could easily be manipulated and was hardly ever used by anybody else at breakfast time.  
Switching sugar for salt could result in other casualties but Thor wasn't here at the moment and Steve kind of deserved to be included in the prank. He wasn't sure about Rhodes or Wilson but they were unlikely to show up out of the blue and neither Bruce nor Natasha would take any sugar. So Clint was comfortable with it and he would have enjoyed doing more but there were footsteps nearing and it wouldn't do to be seen. 

Bruce came into the kitchen and started preparing a herbal tea but he didn't notice Hawkeye sneaking away and getting back to his quarters where nobody could see him hacking into the security footage to delete it. He wasn't exactly good enough to hack Jarvis himself but the AI could be sworn to secrecy as long as it didn't concern life-threatening matters. A loophole that Clint gleefully exploited before turning in.

When he shuffled yawning into the community kitchen a few hours later and accepted his usual black coffee with a nod, Tony was already there. Dripping with the remnants of green smoothie covering him from top to bottom. But mostly concerned with checking his blender to find out why it had exploded on him. It could have been explained away as an accident but when the billionaire spit his mouthful of salted coffee over the table everyone knew somebody must have pulled a prank. Although no one suspected the bone-tired man sitting among them, too tired to even crack a smile at Tony's antics. All of the kids protested their innocence so sincerely that none of them was singled out to be scolded. In Clint's book, it was a full success.

The only thing spoiling his morning was the way Pietro kept fidgeting and looking subdued whenever he tried to meet his eyes. It reminded him that they still needed to resolve the whole punishment issue. So once he'd made sure they both had something in their stomach. He gave the kid a friendly nudge. “Come on, Whitey. You don't look all that hungry. We can get a snack later when things have calmed down a bit.” The speedster turned a whiter shade of pale but didn't try to object.

It looked a bit as if Steve wanted to keep them at the table but even with his limited knowledge of the situation he recognized Hawkeye's determination and stepped back without saying anything.

Pietro wondered if the others considered it shivering when he fidgeted so often that it looked as if he blurred around the edges. There was a shivering quality to that thing happening to him – he just couldn't hold his muscles still. He'd fucked up. Badly.  
He had only wanted to hide from Clint to see how long it would take the man to miss him, check up on him and then there was the bottle. Like a tease. Von Strucker had given both of the twins alcohol, an experiment to give him more data on them. So Pietro decided to make the wait more interesting and told Jarvis that it was an experiment, that it was important not to do anything that would cause a disruption. Of course he could respond to direct questions but it would unduly influence the outcome to volunteer information to any of the other Avengers as long as Pietro wasn't in any immediate danger. Jarvis had disapproved but complied with his requests and the teenager had spent his time being miserable before Jarvis told him that Clint wanted him back on their floor.  
He had not realized how hard standing up and walking would prove to be. A fucking pain in the ass. But his memories were a bit muddled at that point. There was a clear moment when the elevator doors open and a frowning Clint was waiting for him, supporting his weight on the ride, taking care of him, a stable presence until he'd sobered enough to stand on his own.  
Another moment where he told somebody that Pietro was in no state to be punished right then while rubbing his back. The warm feeling about being tucked in like a child. Clint hadn't done that since they'd left his family farm in favor of the Avengers' tower months ago.

Well, even if he hadn't cared about it last night, he was very aware of the danger he put his butt in right now that Clint had nudged him to return to their space. His whole bottom tingled even before his mentor had landed a friendly smack there. That smack confused Pietro as Clint had never done that before a serious spanking. But then again he had only known the man for about a year and only landed himself in big trouble a handful of times when you get right down to it. So he questioningly looked at the guy.  
“Better. It seemed like you would vibrate out of your own skin.”, Clint grinned and before the fidgeting could start again he slung an arm around him. “Come here, lightning.” Strong arms surrounded him and everything else ceased to exist. Clint was warm and solid and fair and loyal. Pietro screwed up but Clint found him and took care of him and he won't, he won't leave. He won't make him deal with it on his own.

When they arrived back in their quarters Clint ordered him to sit down on the couch and started interrogating him.  
“How is your head? Any pain?”  
“Not really.”  
“I need you to be more specific.”  
“I don't think there's anything from the alcohol”, Pietro grimaced, “a bit of a tension headache from muscle cramps in the shoulder.”  
Clint left and came back with a packet of Magnesium tablets. He slid them wordlessly over the couch table towards Pietro. He kept standing.  
“How did you get the alcohol?”  
It's a fair question. Pietro is considered underage in America and should not be able to buy any for himself. “Found the bottle in the kitchen when I made myself a snack.”  
The look on Clint's face could only be described as murderous.  
“I, I had some before. The drinking age is lower in Sokovia and everyone gets drunk.”, he muttered defiantly.  
“Aha. Well, you are aware that we are in the U.S. And you're not old enough to drink here. Not to mention that you had just turned eighteen when we picked you up a year ago. Why did you tell Jarvis it was an experiment?”  
“He got on my case about taking the bottle. It was an experiment when von Strucker gave me alcohol. So it was the first thing that popped into my mind to get him to leave me alone.”  
Murderous. If Pietro wasn't so sure that Clint wouldn't kill him, he'd shrink back at that glare but he only looked away. Studied the floor as if the secrets of the universe would open up to him if he kept at it long enough.  
Clint sighed and Pietro felt himself blush.  
He heard footsteps and Clint's feet were in his line of sight. Then his mentor crouched down and gently touched his cheek before taking a hold of his chin. “Look at me, punk. Can you tell me what this is about?”  
Pietro looked at him but only shrugged.  
“Right.” Clint stood up again and Pietro hated losing the opportunity to talk to him on a more even level but he could only blame himself. “Well, I think this is, at least partially, about Peter. About him not getting a spanking when we all know he would have deserved it and everyone being so nice to him over breakfast, yesterday. So I think you need to know how exactly he was punished. Stand up.”  
And Clint yelled at him that his ears were ringing, starting with “HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?” but going on about how worried he was and repeatedly screaming at him to not look away, to keep facing him. It didn't even take two minutes, to reduce Pietro to tears and Clint stopped as suddenly as he started and put a calming hand on his shoulder. “And Cap, _his childhood hero_ , just kept going for fifteen minutes. Do you still think Peter got off easy?”  
Pietro swallowed and tried to pull himself together before answering: “No.”  
Clint opened his arms and the younger men jumped at the opportunity to be held. The archer pressed a kiss on top of the white mop of hair.  
After a while Pietro started to squirm. “Is -”, he hesitated, “Was that it?”  
“Do you think it should be?” There was no good way to answer that question because Clint would know if he wasn't honest but there was no way he'd be asking for more punishment. The yelling had just made him feel worse about himself. No wonder Peter had had nightmares. “I – don't know. I still feel bad.” _Do something. Help me._  
“Hmm. Do you want to talk about it?” He wanted to run, just stay in motion until he could forget the guilt again but he couldn't do that. He wasn't supposed to run through the city and his mouth opened without really involving his brain. “I don't know, I kind of want to find another bottle and drink until I can't feel it anymore.” The mocking grin was as automatic as the bold tone.  
“Oh, now you're just trying to rile me up. But I'll let you win. Fetch the hairbrush and get over my knee.” Clint said and sat down on the couch.  
Pietro wasn't sure how that was letting him “win”. Still the urge to run had diminished and his heart felt lighter than it had in the last 24 hours so maybe the old man had a point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not that anybody asked but I decided on describing the Sokovian language as similar to Russian first of all because I got the impression (from the MCU wiki) that it uses kyrillic letters and second because I have a Russian friend I can pester with questions if I find myself wanting to go into further details.  
> It also just fit so well that I had just read that Clint speaks Russian fluently. <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to andromyntra who not just let's me play with the background of her story but also did the proofreading.
> 
> You are wonderful.

The hairbrush was not actually wooden. It was made from bamboo – technically a type of grass. Clint had told him about it. That the bows of the zen masters were crafted from bamboo as well as their arrows.  
Bow and arrows were made to fit each other and the archer. Hawkeye usually preferred carbon fiber for his weapons but he'd read about the zen masters and tried to teach Pietro meditation.  
Bamboo could grow much quicker than trees which made it more environmental friendly. It also possessed remarkable strength. In some Asian countries it could be used for scaffolding or building bridges. As strong as steel in some ways.  
An implement made from this stuff was about to be used on his butt and Pietro could not take his eyes and mind off of it. It wasn't the first time either. That brush might not look particularly evil but it stung. There really should be no need for him to rush the experience. Except that Clint had adapted quite well to Pietro's speed so if he decided to take longer the oldtimer would know that he had been dragging his feet. Or he might fall asleep on the couch.  
That was the thought that made him speed out to the living room to check on his mentor and, sure enough, his usually sharp focused eyes were closed. But he didn't look relaxed enough to actually be asleep and a fast assessment of the situation suggested that he was trying to find patience.  
Pietro should have taken the offer to talk but now that the decision had been made, Clint would probably appreciate not having to repeat himself. Taking a deep breath the young hero started his journey towards certain doom.

Every step of the way was hard. It shouldn't be surprising that the waiting still felt like the worst part of the experience. It had been that way with his parents and every time Clint had reprimanded him so far. It's unlikely to ever change. But somehow the teenager felt as if he should mind the pain more or the fact that he disappointed the man who took him in and cared for him in the first place.  
Nevertheless it was the wait for forgiveness, until he can believe that the world had been set right by a number of well-placed stingers, that he hated the most.

Clint's eyes opened and focused on him walking over. He set the brush down on the couch table next to the packet with magnesium and pushed down the pants of his track suit but tried pleading with his eyes to keep the underwear, just this once. His mentor's eyebrows answered the unspoken question efficiently enough and with a sigh he bared himself completely. A hand was rubbing his back affectionately and the fleeting thought that this was better than anything he'd deserved rushed through his brain as he let himself be guided over Clint's lap.

It scared him when the man he regarded as a father in all but name picked up the brush right away and he couldn't help shifting his hips even if he knew that there was no position where his butt would be safe. It embarrassed him beyond measure when he heard Clint chuckle about it. He blushed so hard his face was flaming. Though the first smack did help to put it out of his mind. He yelped like a kicked puppy but managed to keep quiet as the implement cracked a couple more times against his defenseless flesh.

“How many drinks did you have last night?” _Curse that man for trying to have a conversation right now. He'd had the opportunity to interrogate him before, hadn't he? And Pietro didn't know._  
“I don't remember,” he forced himself to reply, “too many.”  
“One would have been too many, punk. If the public gets word of you breaking the law, there are groups who'll try to have you deported - not that we'd let you go without a fight but your actions have consequences.” And that stung even more than the smacks to his behind. He'd been stupid, hadn't even thought that there might be consequences outside their little family when he knew full well that there were people still wary of him and his sister.  
The brush now connected with his thighs which made him twitch and whine. He was almost glad when Clint decided to start another round on his bottom. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be a single spot that hadn't felt the bamboo a couple of times. Everything was already swollen and sensitive. Pietro didn't even notice his hand flying back to protect himself until the hairbrush grazed his fingers and had him crying out. There was a small pause to pin both of his hands behind his back before the spanking continued with a couple of extra hard whacks towards the underside of his butt. A few more to his thighs and the tearful boy was shifted forward to expose the area where he would feel it the most when he'd try to sit down.  
Eight extremely painful swats later and he was crying his eyes out. But Clint helped him into an upright position in his lap and made room for his probably glowing behind. He was being held, safe and forgiven. Gentle fingers wiped away tears and combed through his hair and a comforting rumble assured him that he was brave and that it was over. He basked in the attention and snuggled deeper into strong arms. He didn't mind this part at all.

Even if he wouldn't admit to it out loud, Pietro wasn't quite ready to let go of Clint when his stomach grumbled and reminded them that he'd hardly eaten anything that day. So he washed up, they went to the kitchen and with the punishment out of the way, he could actually enjoy food again. They had peanut butter sandwiches with loads of salad and veggies as filling and leftover pizza. In Pietro's opinion Clint really was the coolest, always trying new combinations and stumbling over delicious but slightly gross looking or sounding recipes. A lot of the other Avengers steered clear of his kitchen experiments but Pietro loved them.  
As an additional plus them being alone meant they could just eat standing up without risking a lecture about proper eating habits and because his mentor was awesome, they finished with a training routine that consisted of the World's Greatest Marksman throwing various fruits towards bowls in different corners of the kitchen and Quicksilver peeling and slicing them at superspeed without changing their course. He still had a bit trouble to get that part right. It used to be pretty unpredictable where the fruit would end up after he let go but he had improved greatly.  
That session had to be discussed by reviewing Jarvis' footage over fruit salad. Since nothing had landed on the floor or anywhere gross they had managed to prepare a huge bowl that was now sitting in the fridge for the team.

“Hey boys. Everything taken care of?” Natasha's voice interrupted their training discussion. Clint might not be able to throw fruit as fast as speeding bullets but he'd think of an exercise involving his arrows next and by the time he was finished training the boy, Pietro would know how to stop bullets without throwing himself in front of them and using his own body as a shield.  
“Tasha!” Clint exclaimed enthusiastically around a mouthful of food. He waved his bowl at her and asked: “Fruit salad?”  
“Sure.”, she smiled back. “But you have to sit down with me. You are free to go Pietro. Wanda was disappointed that you didn't stay after breakfast.”

Pietro understood that non too subtle hint and took his leave. Once he was gone and while Clint arranged a portion of fruit salad for her, adding a few touches, just as she liked it. She spoke again: “So, you two are clear?”  
“Better than ever,” he flippantly replied. Her next sentence however almost made his heart stop: “One of these days you're going to have to admit that you've become a responsible adult.” For a second Clint froze.  
“Awww, Tasha! Don't bring that up.”  
“Why? You feeling guilty over something?” The only other trained assassin living in the tower asked as innocently as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. “Like an exploding blender, maybe? Salt instead of sugar? Deleted security footage?”  
He calmly handed over her bowl and stated: “I won't insult your intelligence by pretending to answer those questions.”  
“Good.”  
“Stark deserved it.” He felt the need to justify.  
“Don't expect me to defend him.” Natasha got started on her snack. “The thing is Clint, this isn't going to teach him that he needs to take his role as Peter's guardian more seriously. So while I understand that it's your way of blowing off steam if you want things to change, you should talk to him.”  
“Like that guy would ever listen to me. He's a pompous, arrogant ass.”  
“You had no problems cutting through Pietro's shit once you took the time. And Steve will be working on Stark as well.” She looked at him musingly and amended: “I'd do it myself. But if I try to talk to him alone he'll just assume it's an opportunity to flirt.”  
Clint grimaced. “I thought Pepper put a stop to that.”  
“The fact that he knows I could kick his ass put a stop to that,” his best friend told him with a gleam in her eyes, “but the longer he's alone the more he'll see that as an additional turn on. I am in fact surprised how much caring for Peter and building toys for the team has held him together through the break-up.”  
“Break-up?” Natasha smiled at Clint's overt confusion. “No, Tasha, back up. There's been a break-up?”  
“Tony and Pepper.” She said slowly, watching the message sink in.  
While Clint felt pretty sheepish he couldn't resist saying: “Are you sure he's even aware that she left him? Because I don't see the difference.”  
“You know, a lot of people would say that about you and Laura.”  
“Ouch. Alright, alright. I've got it.” It didn't help knowing that he had invited and deserved that verbal slap so he hurried to assure her nothing further needed to be said and they spent the rest of their meal in companionable silence.

Because Natasha was always right, Clint made plans to go and talk to Tony. He would be mature about it. No trying to get the drop on the guy, just walking straight up to him and talking. Aww, this was going to suck.  
Better think about what he'd want to say beforehand. He could always adapt the strategy. But first he needed some information: “Jarvis? The alcohol Pietro took yesterday. Was that Tony's?”  
“Yes, Agent Barton.” The AI confirmed.  
The next inquiry was something that had slipped his mind in the emotional turmoil of finding and taking care of Pietro: “Where is the bottle now?”  
“It's still in the game room.” Jarvis answered and Clint wanted to kick himself. “Ah. Damn, I should have thought about putting it away before.” Still, he should take care of that as soon as possible even if the kids deserved a private meeting area. “Uh, tell the kids, I'm coming in.”  
“Certainly, Agent Barton.” 

Pietro was lying on his stomach on the settee, Wanda was sitting on the floor in front of it and Peter was leaning forward in the easy chair while they were battling their way through Diablo 3. What Clint picked up from the conversation suggested they were fighting over different tactics. Cap would be so proud. The bottle was standing on a table a bit further away. Clint should have just taken it and been on his way out but hey, the kids had paused their game and looked at him expectantly.  
“So, I'll be busy a while longer, but Bruce and I are set to meet in the evening, meditation and going to the shooting range if any of you want to join. And Cap apparently wants everybody together at dinnertime. You okay, Whitey?” he asked, ruffling Pietro's hair before bowing forward to whisper in his ear: “We can use some lotion on your bottom before you have to sit down for dinner.”  
The boy gave him a small smile. “What about lunch?”  
“Eh, you just had a snack. Get yourself something before you start to feel empty and try to avoid people who are convinced it only counts as a meal when you sit down.”  
Realizing they were not alone he pointed a finger at Peter: “You didn't hear that from me. I am not taking responsibility for anybody picking up “bad habits”.”  
Wanda snickered.  
He would have loved to sink down next to her and stay a little while but he had to go so he simply grouched a little: “Yeah, yeah. Laugh is always on the loser. No need to spare my feelings, little witch. I'll be on my way.”  
He secured the bottle he came for and left the kids to their game.

By the time Natasha joined them, Pietro didn't particularly mind being sent away so she could have a private discussion with Clint. It was time to find Wanda anyway. He would have done it without her reminder.

As it turned out Wanda and Peter had spent time training under Black Widow's watchful eye and were now hanging out in the game room and they'd found the half-empty vodka bottle he'd left in the night. Wanda's eyes gleamed red when he entered the room.  
“Is this why you looked so pale over breakfast?”, she asked him with a gesture to the bottle that he definitely hadn't left on the table.  
“Partly,” he admitted. “Mostly it was because I knew I still had a thrashing coming.”  
His sister frowned at him. “Why? Why did you do it?”  
“Because it was there and I figured I'm 19 years old and only ever had some as a fucking lab experiment.” Pietro spat. Then he groaned at her hurt expression and went over to hug her. “I'm sorry Wandotschka. Please forgive me. You know I can't breath when you're angry with me.” His exaggerated pleading made her laugh and he picked her up and swung her around. “Put me down, put me down,” she squealed and when her feet were back on the ground she grinned at him and tapped a finger against his forehead. “Silly boy. Always running so fast the brain gets left behind.” With a lopsided smile Pietro turned to the settee in front of the PlayStation and lowered himself onto it – stomach down of course. Wanda came to sit at his top end.  
“Being able to sit is probably one of the most underrated abilities to have.” Pietro sighed mournfully and startled a laugh out of his sister and Peter who was standing a bit away, watching them with interest.  
“Do you want to let me take a look at the damage?” Wanda asked gently but her twin wasn't ready to let his guard down so he responded with a quipped: “Why? Did you develop a healing power that works on sight?”  
He didn't have to see her face to know that she was worried but also amused by his antics.  
“I just thought it might be good to have a picture to remind you the next time you think about doing something stupid.”  
He sighed. “But Wanda, that never worked before.”  
“Come on, Petya,” she continued to badger him, “let me see and I might be willing to get you an ice pack or something.”  
“I don't need an ice pack and I don't want to scare the kid.”  
Peter bristled. “You're not that much older than me.”  
“No, but I am that much more -” the words got stuck in his throat as he remembered that while Peter was lucky enough to be able to sit comfortably, the kid did have to rely on the team to feel better after being yelled at and Pietro had been let down by other people enough to know that he shouldn't put somebody down who was in that kind of situation. “Oh, fine. You want to look at my butt. Suit yourself.” he grumbled.  
Wanda carefully eased his loose-fitting track pants down and sucked in a breath.  
“Holy shit!” Peter exclaimed.  
“It's fine.”  
“You are pretty bruised.” Wanda observed carefully running a finger over a particularly vicious mark. Pietro shuddered a bit it was the place Clint had caught him wrong when he had reached back. “What did he use?”  
“Hairbrush.” And because Wanda had seen him before after getting a couple of whacks with the brush he elaborated: “Didn't bother to start with his hands. But you know, he said if anybody found out about me breaking the law, people would try to have us deported. I didn't even think about that.” Which was a reason that on its own would be enough to justify the punishment.  
Wanda still sounded pained when she started to talk: “Pietro, they wouldn't ---”  
“No, I know,” he interrupted, “and Clint said that of course. They'd fight to keep us here but it's not as if Natasha or him are legally our guardians. I should have thought about that before, what's that expression? Rocking the boat.”  
Wanda let him lay his head on her thigh and stroked his hair.  
Peter sank down in the easy chair to their right still throwing wide-eyed glances at Pietro's bruised bottom. His thighs were marked as well and it was unusual to see the speedster be so _static_ especially without sneering at people. He seemed perfectly relaxed lying there like that but the fifteen-year-old started to get uncomfortable. He himself hadn't been spanked in quite some time and while he liked to think he was too old for that by now, the fact that Pietro got spanked kind of proved that hypothesis wrong.  
Maybe it was true that the Sokovian had a hard time listening to reason. Wanda didn't get spanked and Mr. Stark said all Peter needed to do was being reasonable. He'd been in trouble a few times but mostly got scolded, apologized and got a hug afterward.

Still, it was a relief when Pietro reached behind to put his pants back up and suggested making use of the PlayStation as long as they weren't called for some other training exercise. 

Tony Stark. As much as Hawkeye respected Iron Man, Tony Stark was just a hot mess he'd rather avoid dealing with and maybe putting the two persona's of one man into different categories was a problem but so far he hadn't found a better way to get a handle on the guy.  
Tony was tinkering with something but he was in the part of his lab that he frequented when he was open to visits so Clint knocked to get his attention and let himself in. Holding eye contact he set the bottle down on a lab table and asked: “Did you leave this out in the kitchen, yesterday?”  
“I might have but hey, if you wanted to have some you didn't need to ask. There is a reason it was in the part of the tower we all share.”  
“Pietro got drunk last night. I just got this from the game room. He said it was just standing around in the kitchen.”  
Tony winced.  
Clint continued: “It wasn't right of him to take it but maybe leaving hard liquor just standing around with three underage teenagers in the house is not the best thing to do.”  
“Sorry. I guess I'm not used to” the billionaire stopped “I was having a bit of a hard night myself and I got rid of all the booze in the penthouse so I got it out but then Jarvis helped me realize that, uh, I'm sorry.” After an embarrassed pause: “Is Speedy Gonzales alright?”  
“I don't think there will be any permanent damage and I made it pretty clear what I thought about that little stunt.” _Oh god, Tasha was right, I sound like a dad. I almost sounded like_ Cap _there for a minute._  
Tony winced again.  
“Maybe you should do the same with your troublemaker.” It's supposed to be a gentle suggestion but it comes out flat and hard and annoyed.  
Tony is visibly taken back: “Hey now, Peter is a good kid.”  
“So is Pietro.”  
Clint's temper flared although he hoped Tony didn't mean to imply what he'd just done. Of course Stark would only dig himself deeper. “Peter is not getting drunk,” he said haughtily, trying to defend his position and it made Clint's blood boil.  
“No thanks to you on that front,” he snapped. “How often have you actually bothered spending time with him outside of the lab and training?”  
“I'm busy,” the engineer indicated his work space with a wide gesture, his tone petulant. It actually helped Clint in regards of calming down a bit and letting his parental side take over. He explained Stark's failures like he would explain a child's wrongdoings to them: “You let Steve handle the kid when there is trouble. _You_ brought him here. He isn't just another intern that goes home in the evening. He left his family to move here.”  
“And I make sure he sees his aunt on a regular basis. He's healthy and learning to control his powers. Cap is just better equipped to deal with children and all that emotional stuff.” Tony defended himself and it was obvious he was much too guarded to let anything else touch him at the moment.  
“Whatever you say, Stark. I'll make sure this doesn't land in the wrong hands again.” Clint said reproachfully, grabbed the bottle and stormed out.  
Everything being said, it could have gone over worse.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a while since Clint stopped by to take that stupid bottle of vodka away. Peter had shifted to lying upside down on the easy chair, his legs hanging over the backrest, his head at the edge of the seat, when Pietro suggested he'd run and get them all some snacks from the kitchen.  
He returned with a bunch of cold snacks, there had been fried risotto balls and spring rolls as well as a couple of dipping sauces to choose and Pietro had no idea where all of it came from but it was clearly meant for everyone to use. He had also decided to bring the rest of the fruit salad, which was a clear indicator of the number of people who had gone through he fridge since he had finished his exercise and training discussion, and a few protein bars.

“And then we got to the dinner table and Clint was taped to his chair.” Wanda was explaining, when Pietro entered. “Natasha said she would do the same to us if we didn't start to respect meal times.” Peter was on the floor now, convulsing with laughter and the witch grinned happily about eliciting such a response and about her brother's return.  
It took Peter a few minutes to be able to catch his breath again, but when it happened he sat up and quickly started digging into the buffet Pietro had arranged on the low coffee table.  
“And I thought Bruce was the only stickler for 'proper eating habits' around here,” he mused cheerfully, “Hey, he made spring rolls again.”  
Pietro eyed the roll in his hand and blinked before asking: “So, does Dr. Banner cook a lot?” “Every day. You haven't seen him do it?” But apparently the other boy had only asked a rhetorical question because he happily went on about hanging out in the kitchen with 'Bruce'.”  
“Dr. Banner doesn't really want us around.” Wanda said softly when Peter had to take a breath. The fifteen-year old seemed surprised by that notion: “What? No. Why? I mean you've been here much longer than I am and he always cooks for everyone.”  
Pietro shrugged: “Maybe he doesn't feel like getting into an argument with the other Avengers. Doesn't mean he wants us here.” That thought seemed to bum Peter out but it didn't do good things to Pietro's mood either. He snagged his portion of protein bars and said: “I'm going to my room.” Then he popped a few more risotto balls into his mouth and sped off.

Wanda stayed behind and watched Peter's face crumble. Food clearly forgotten. “Do you think some of the Avengers are only tolerating me because Mr. Stark brought me in?” The witch sighed: “Look Peter, when we met the Avengers we were standing on opposite sides of the fight. Hawkeye and Black Widow knew what that was like, being used to achieve a goal that isn't even your own, being made to believe you're doing the right thing and then realizing that it wasn't. Natasha and I talk, a lot, about what happened. It's just that some of the team members understand it better than others and it hurts that they still don't trust us but it's different with you. You haven't ever done something that was so wrong. There really is no reason for them not to like you.”  
The boy drew in a breath as if he wanted to say something but changed his mind. Then he started in a very subdued tone: “Are you going after your brother now?”  
It would be her first instinct but Pietro wasn't very good about letting her in when he felt like that and the fifteen-year-old actually wanted her to stay. That much was certain. It wasn't a fault that he was able to trust and be trusted more easily and she'd feel bad about leaving him now. As if the answer didn't matter all that much, she replied: “He's the one who left us behind to sulk. Besides I doubt he'd really want to talk to me right now.” She paused a bit thinking something over. “Hey, I know we just went through the whole doing back-flips and sparring routine with Natasha but we could go down and practice evasive maneuvers. Clint brought a few Nerf guns in a few days ago.” Peter peaked up about that.

It took Wanda a while to find the Nerf guns. They were actually crammed into the back of the equipment closet as if somebody had been meaning to hide them. A touch of telekinesis had them flying right into their hands, though.  
“Woah, those aren't from the average toy store. Are you sure this is okay?” Peter asked nervously. “Somebody obviously went to some trouble putting them away.”  
“If becoming an Avenger has taught me anything, it's that hard work is needed to achieve your goals.” Wanda stated, testing the loading mechanism on one of the guns. There were a couple of different models all painted to look like realistic weaponry.  
“What if my goal right now was not pissing anybody off?”  
The witch lowered the gun and sighed: “If they were off-limits they would be a locked away or we would be informed not to touch them.”  
“So, pushing them far enough to the back that you can't comfortably reach them isn't a sign.”  
She almost rolled her eyes. “They know that I can do telekinesis. ”  
Peter looked around with renewed interest. “So we can use everything in here?”  
“No, of course not. There are things that were declared off-limits.” The young woman eyed him skeptically. “Honestly, are you that forgetful or do you have trouble listening?”  
A bit embarrassed he amended: “But you just assume everything that wasn't explicitly forbidden is fair game?”  
“Sure. Within reason.” She said unconcernedly before trying to reassure him: “Look, if anybody sees us, I am ready to take full responsibility. No need to worry about your butt.”  
“I'm not.” Peter protested unconvincingly “But it's pretty obvious that I am complicit here.”  
“It's fine Parker. This is training. As the senior Avenger I am your trainer right now. We'll build an obstacle course first, then we start with exercises.”  
The declaration surprised the boy. “Are you serious?”, he kicked off another discussion.  
Wanda was much more used to Pietro jumping to action than somebody asking questions so she must have looked a bit disbelieving at her training partner. “Of course I'm serious. I told you we were going to practice evasive maneuvers.”  
Peter squirmed under her gaze. “Yeah, but then you said Nerf guns and everything else went out of the window. I figured we'd just run around, chasing each other.”  
She loosened up a bit, grinning at him: “Now, that wouldn't be half as fun as working with our surroundings. And these are training equipment. We want to play with them, we need to do it right.”  
She started to pull up training mats and other equipment to build the course and for a while they were both working silently side by side. Then Peter sighed.  
“You have a problem, Parker?” She couldn't help teasing him. “Could you please stop calling me 'Parker'?” A pause. They looked at each other. “Sure. Sorry.”  
For a moment neither of them knew what to do.  
“You got carried away being the trainer?” The fifteen-year-old broke the tension.  
“Maybe,” she conceded, “but it's just –weird that you basically have the same name as my brother.” There was another pause in their conversation until Peter asked: “Do you have an excuse to play Diablo, too?”  
Wanda grinned at him. “Group exercise in coordination and tactics – and in Pietro's case controlling his temper. He did reasonably well today. Don't take it too hard when he blows up at you, Petruscha.”  
“Petruscha?” “You don't like it?”, and Peter couldn't understand the next word out of her mouth. Probably Sokovian. He wondered how one would even write it. While he was looking at the witch in puzzlement she continued to talk. “We'll find something but I certainly won't call you Pete. Come on, concentrate. We need something to represent a pile of rubble over there.”  
“What did you say? B-ah-jow-g,” he tried sounding out the unfamiliar word which made Wanda laugh. “What does it mean?”  
The girl smiled at him. “Spider. It means spider.”  
“Really? Not, like, baby?”  
She giggled. “First off: Why would I call you baby? And second: Why would I lie to you?” Turning her back to him, she probably didn't see him blush but Peter decided to surprise her with a missile to her thigh that was abruptly stopped by a wall of energy around her. The ripple of her aura immediately caught her attention. “Ah, trying to get the drop on your trainer?” Wanda's smile was sharp and her eyes glowed red for a moment, she looked terrifying. “Not a smart move, little spider.” She taunted as she stalked closer and Peter leaped to the wall, trying to escape when she opened fire. One of the bullets caught him in the back, another struck him on the bottom before he jumped behind one of the exercise mats they had put up.

He paused to rub the sting out when the mat was thrown away by a burst of power. He couldn't help the shriek escaping his throat as he ran for cover, the witches laughter followed him as she tore his hideouts away one after the other and forced him to change directions or jump away to evade her bullets.  
He got a small breather when she needed to reload her gun but his powers were no match for hers.  
None of his bullets could penetrate her protective force field, so she didn't ever need to duck for cover. He had only his quick reflexes to thank for not smarting all over. Still, more than once some of her bullets connected.  
Suddenly, his gun flew away from him and Wanda caught it. Both guns trained on him, she stopped. Her terrifying expression drained away and she laughed delighted. “That was fun,” she threw the gun she'd used in his direction. “I think this one has a better range. Let's gather up our munition and then you can chase me around for a while.”

They were in the middle of their third round when the door to the training room opened, giving Peter the opportunity to flee into the corridor. At first he didn't look down to see who had given him the out because he started wondering if one of his new senses had felt somebody approach before he'd consciously registered anything. That would explain why he had gone for the door before thinking things through. His musings where interrupted when he heard Black Widow's severe but calmly inquiring voice: “What's going on in here, Wanda?” Uh oh.  
“Natasha”, the girl sounded out of breath but still smiling. “I initiated a spontaneous training session.”  
“Is that right?” “Yes. Evasive maneuvers. Plus I really wanted to try out the Nerf guns. They're a lot of fun.” A husky laugh made Peter risk a glance so he saw Wanda smiling widely while Natasha affectionately stroked her hair. The girl hadn't sounded worried to be in trouble for even a moment.  
“One of your training partners seems to have fled and I can't see your brother anywhere.”  
“Oh, Pietro went to his room before we started this but Peter's still here.” Wanda pointed at him, mostly hidden by the door frame. “He just wasn't sure we were allowed to use the equipment without asking permission first. I told him I'd take full responsibility but he's probably waiting to see if I need backup.”  
“Hmmm, I guess that's acceptable. Tony probably didn't cover those rules with him. The details about lab work seem more important to him than talking about unscheduled training sessions. Did you eat something?”  
“We had something to eat, not a full meal, though.”  
“Okay, I'm in for one bonus round and then it's time for lunch.” Wanda nodded enthusiastically but stopped when Peter called out: “Spider team up!”  
“Hey! You can't just poach my mentor whenever you feel like it.”  
But given the fact that Wanda actually needed a bigger challenge, the spider team up was a done deal. Two against one, Wanda's shield faltered a few times and had her earnestly trying to avoid the hits.

Clint always said that he'd be there if there was anything his ward wanted to talk about. But Pietro didn't really want to talk and he couldn't very well ask Clint to interrupt whatever it was he needed to do just to come to their floor because he was pathetic and wanted a hug. Even Wanda hadn't tried to follow him today. In frustration Pietro kicked his bed which slammed against the wall and left an imprint. He started to swear but the feeling still overwhelmed him until he punched the wall. “OWW, FUCK!” The haze lifted and he felt stupid for acting that way. Throwing himself on the bed in a major sulk he could feel that he hadn't really rested easily during the night. Unbidden his hands went to his bottom, testing the soreness and trying to rub the sting out. But he soon abandoned that goal as he started to nod off. He woke to the feeling of somebody sitting down beside him. Clint's hand stroked his back in circles and his voice was gentle when he asked: “What happened, lightning? You seemed to have fun when I last saw you.”  
“That was before Peter brought up Dr. Banner.” The sleepy teenager complained. “He doesn't want us here, Clint. Nobody besides you and Natasha wants us here.”  
It wasn't a new concern but he hadn't dared to voice it before. Wanda and him had settled in enough that he was sure Clint would deny that they weren't as much a part of the team as any of the other Avengers. “That's not true. Steve was the first to want both of you on the team. Apparently you reminded him of himself. Willing to go through with the experiments to protect your country.”  
Pietro still couldn't have expected that information being dropped on him. He turned to his side and looked curiously at his mentor. “He said that?”  
The archer stroked his hair and looked at him, making sure the message would sink in. “Something along those lines. I wasn't with him at the time. I heard it from Maria when you were in the hospital recovering after the battle against Ultron.” Now he was gently caressing the boy's cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn't noticed falling before elaborating: “She said she finally understood what he meant. Look Whitey, Bruce is hesitant with everybody. It has a lot to do with his own issues. You should come to the shooting range with us. Spend some time with him and get him to know you.”  
He couldn't help the protesting whine: “Clint.”  
But the man only shrugged. “I wouldn't order you to do it. I just think you should. Tell you what, I get the lotion right now if you agree to come.”  
Pietro groaned. “That still counts as blackmail, doesn't it?”  
A broad grin and a finger playfully tipped against his nose. “No. It counts as giving you an incentive.”  
Sometimes being treated like a kid was infuriating but then again at times he found that he didn't mind it as much. It might even work to pull him out of a bad mood. He turned back to his stomach and sighed heavily before responding in a moody voice: “Fine. I'll do it.”  
Clint affectionately noogied him. “Be right back.”  
Faster was always preferable in Pietro's opinion so he stood up and undid his pants as soon as Clint was out of the room. He hadn't even bothered with underwear - the training pants were soft and loose and it would have made his bottom feel worse even if it would have provided additional padding. He slipped the pants off completely, threw them over the chair by the bed and lay down again. Clint didn't suck in a breath the way Wanda had when he laid eyes on his bottom - but he'd probably known exactly what it would look like when he had finished the punishment. He sat down quietly and started to rub the lotion in. Pietro remembered the smell. The first time Clint had used it on him he was surprised when the man had offered personal information to fill the silence. “My dad was a drunkard.” He had started. “My parents died when I was six.” and Pietro had tucked that information away as some of the reasons Clint understood him so well. Now he realized that talking about drinking bad feelings away couldn't have gone over well with that lingering memory. He really had been trying to ask for a spanking without actually asking.  
“The active ingredient in here is called Arnica. It is a herb with many medical properties.” His mentor started to lecture him this time and Pietro listened while some of the sting was gently taken away. The facts about field medicine and useful stuff a fighter should keep in his medicine cabinet were also carefully tucked away to remember. When Clint was finished with the marks of his punishment, he examined and treated the bruised hand (punching a wall definitely wasn't a smart idea) delving into the topic of how to spot broken bones.  
He hugged the boy close, then tapped once on the injured knuckles.  
“Just as an extra incentive not to go around punching walls or kicking furniture: If you do it again, I'll assume you're volunteering to let Tony and Cap practice their spanking technique on you.”  
Now that had come out of nowhere and it startled the young speedster: “What? You're joking!”  
But instead of a real reply he only got a flippant: “Don't throw a tantrum like that and you'll never have to find out.”  
Pietro felt panic building up inside of him. “But you said, you said, – Clint, you promised”  
“Oh, I'd be there with you, punk”, Clint responded oblivious to the depth of Pietro's reaction, “apparently they need somebody providing instructions or some such nonsense. They act as if it's easy for me just because I have children or because you're older and not as dainty as some people. I'm so sick of it.”  
“Not Stark. N-not Stark.” Pietro whimpered and Clint snapped back to reality focusing on his charge at once.  
“Oh, Pietro, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. My brain didn't catch up with my mouth. I'm sorry. Calm down. That's it. There you go, Whitey. Such a brave hero. I'm sorry.” after a pause he tried to lighten the atmosphere “You'd be okay with Cap though, right?”  
He seemed to be mostly joking but the teenager's eyes still went wide: “Clint! The guy can rip apart tanks with his bare hands.”  
The amusement was palpable: “I'm pretty sure that's an exaggeration.”  
“But you don't know. It doesn't seem that unlikely with all the stories about him.” Pietro felt the need to point out.  
“Maybe it seems that way because the Hulk is able to rip tanks apart. But I'm sure Steve just wrecks a few key components and he probably uses his shield for that.” Oh yeah, that was a huge difference. The boy huffed. “He still needs the strength to hit hard enough and I've sparred with him. He's a wall.”  
“A fitting punishment then if you go around picking fights with walls." Clint grinned but continued more seriously: "He's never hurt you during training, right? He wouldn't harm you. But I didn't realize the thought would terrify you so much. I'll think of something different and you just make sure I'll never have to go through with it.”

After that the evening at the shooting range went swimmingly all things considered. Pietro was still pretty nervous at the beginning and he hadn't been sure if he wanted Wanda with him or as far away from Dr. Banner as possible. So, he had asked Peter to go with them, in the hopes that it would defuse the situation, and the other boy had readily agreed. Natasha had decided to join them as well so the adults wouldn't be outnumbered.  
It was fun.  
Pietro had even managed to turn the funk he'd been in earlier into a joke when Peter asked him about his bruised knuckles, bragging about taking on the most fearsome fiend of all. “Not even reacting to punches or kicks and I was completely surrounded by him and three of his cronies.”  
Well, at least Clint got the joke. 

But soon it was time for dinner and Captain America wanted the whole team together.  
Pietro tried to avoid sitting down for as long as possible. He would likely have done that anyway because he had a hard enough time staying still as it was but that evening he went all out with offering his help for anything that kept him away from the table just a little bit longer. Because while the lotion had helped a great deal, he knew that sitting would still feel even more uncomfortable than usual. At some point he became convinced that Steve tried to make up a few things to do just to keep him busy a while longer and he felt grateful for that. Thinking back the first American Superhero had done similar things in the past. He was just so subtle with the ways he showed he cared that Pietro had never noticed it before.  
When he returned from his last errand, there were only two seats still free and one of them had not just one but two thick cushions on it. The nineteen-year-old blushed over that obvious acknowledgment of his state but nobody poked fun at him as he sat down. At least until Tony Stark arrived.  
“I spy with my little eye somebody being spoiled. Are you sure he needs two cushions? Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of giving him a sore butt in the first place? You're getting soft in your old age, Barton.”  
Steve tried to shut Tony up: “Actually, I brought a cushion for him and, well, so did Natasha. It seemed a shame not to use both of them when he worked so hard to help prepare the table and it really is kind of a celebration for him and Wanda, so he should be as comfortable as possible.” But it didn't work.  
“Ah, of course. I would have thought the celebration would be more in honor of my legal team and their achievement but what do I know?”  
“Shut up, Tony.” This time Clint tried.  
“I would shut up if I could see the point of the whole team having to be here just so that Cap can have an audience to hear himself talk about a formality. I said my legal team would handle it and they handled it. Can you just make it quick so I can go? There is a ton to do in the workshop.” The engineer didn't seem to care that he was whining like a toddler. 

“Tony,” Bruce said gently, “you sound like you need a break and I don't even remember the last time you had a complete meal with us. Stay.”  
The billionaire looked as if he wanted to protest but actually relaxed a fraction and remained silent.

Steve looked a bit lost for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even so he pulled himself together and started: “I'm glad all of you are here. The Avengers are a team and it's always good to see the people who will have your back in a crisis. Wanda and Pietro have been with us for more than a year now and just this morning I was informed that they were awarded a dual citizenship and as such an indefinite permit to remain in the United States”  
Tony couldn't help interrupting again: “It could have been over quicker if he had allowed me to use some shortcuts.” and it was Natasha's turn to react: “Shut up, Tony! Do you want him to get even more formal with his speech?”  
While their team leader just tried to drown out the disruption and continued in his best Captain America voice, his blush clearly stated that he'd heard what had been said: “thanks to your invaluable services to the public and the fact that the Avengers are based in the U.S. the court decided this would be the best course of action. Any country could be proud if you chose to call it your home. I hope you'll stay with us for many years. To Wanda and Pietro.”  
Everybody toasted to that.  
“And please, Tony, thank your legal team for working the case as quickly as they could while honoring the rules.” Steve added before he sat down. A bit later, his face was still a bit pink, the Captain turned to Natasha and asked under his breath: “What did you mean about my speech when you told Tony to shut up?”  
The spy shrugged: “You always get more formal when there are interruptions.” She didn't add that he tended to do the same when he was nervous. It was probably too obvious to mention. Just like Steve wouldn't mention that one of her legs had crept up to lie on Barton's chair again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Additional warning: This chapter briefly mentions a judicial corporate punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I really had a tremendous amount of stuff coming up out of the blue since I started this chapter and I can't believe how long it took me to finish it.  
> But I did.  
> I hope you'll like it and I'll try to update as soon as possible but I have some exams coming up and things might stay crazy for a while.

Tony really didn't understand why people kept insisting on interaction just to ignore him. Why couldn't he go back to his lab when nobody wanted to talk to him anyway? Practically from the moment he'd shown up at this lame excuse for a party he'd been told to shut up. And it could hardly be considered a party at all, in any case. There were no proper guests, no government officials, no reporters – just fellow Avengers - none of them, not one, currently on Tony's side.  
This felt like a mandatory family dinner and Tony had always hated those with a passion. If they happened to all hang out unscheduled that was fine but forcing him out of his lab – he usually wouldn't have come just as a matter of principle.  
The mouthy little speedster looked pretty humbled sitting on two pillows and he didn't even get his fire back when Tony started teasing him. The disapproving looks aimed in his direction almost made Tony apologize but he wasn't the one who had smacked the kid into submission or the one forcing him to be sitting here with all of them instead of licking his wounds in peace.

So the kid had gotten drunk, big deal. Surely that was still considered a normal part of growing up and the usual side effects should have been enough punishment in and of itself. Barton was probably just pissed off because he was Barton. But somehow it apparently was Tony's fault that the Sonic Wonder had experimented with alcohol. Maybe he was willing to accept a certain amount of responsibility on that one, his booze and all that, but he was a certified genius and still thought it inconceivable how that had led to the team’s marksman visiting him in his lab and telling him - without much prelude - to be more strict with the kid in his own care. What exactly did Peter have to do with any of that? His trainee may have caused a fair amount of problems with his pranks and general behavior but he'd always seen sense once somebody talked to him.

So once the speech was over and they’d all toasted (just orange juice for the kids), he asked Peter what he'd been up to and the kid launched into describing his day in detail. It was a bit surprising how much of it involved the twins. There had been the usual training, they had played a video game, then Wanda had suggested an unscheduled and apparently fun training exercise, Pietro had invited him to go along to the shooting range – it seemed as if Peter had hardly spent a moment alone.  
“Did you work on your project?” Tony asked and could have bitten his own tongue at the fallen expression that took over the boy's face. “No, Mr. Stark.” At some point during his stay Tony had given up on asking the kid to simply call him by his given name. He always fell back to the 'Mr. Stark' thing. Hopefully that would change in time but, if it was between making the kid uncomfortable or feeling a bit weird himself, there was no contest.  
“Make sure to schedule some time for that. Everybody needs off-time now and again but don't forget that you're here as my intern. Nobody is supposed to know about your extracurricular work with the Avengers, that's the way you wanted it, so you'll need to spend a certain amount of time in the lab.”  
“Yes, Mr. Stark,” Peter hurried to assure him but still sounded guilty over the whole thing.  
“You worked on it yesterday?” Tony asked. Pretty sure that had been the case and as predicted the little genius perked up: “Oh, yes, and I found a few articles from a research group in Stockholm that are really giving me some ideas. I've just been reading the last of them after lunch today and I think if I can replicate their mechanism for my project and adapt it to the new polymer coating that should increase its general resistance by a factor of eleven, maybe twelve?” Tony continued listening as he looked around the table. Bruce was smiling and probably ready to launch questions about the details of Peter's research and ideas. Wanda was whispering something into her brother's ear who still looked like a raincloud was hanging over his head. “Don't whisper with your brother, Wanda. It's impolite.” The girl's head shot around at the admonishment and focused on the only other woman of the team.  
“I just didn't want to talk over anybody. It's easy for you, you and Clint have whole conversations just looking at each other.” Natasha grinned unashamed: “Now, that's a useful skill when you are very nearly deaf from bullets flying through the air. Whispering won't help in a situation like that. So, unless you find a reason why you should practice it, don't.”  
Wanda pouted. Sometimes Tony thought the twins had gotten younger in the time they spent at the tower. And although she was better at hiding it, Romanoff clearly had a soft spot when it came to the kids as well.  
Who would have thought she'd be providing cushions for sore behinds? Maybe her charge had put her up to that, petitioning for her brother. But maybe the spy had thought of it herself. She was pretty hard to read, not to mention astonishingly duplicitous, and Tony hadn't put a lot of effort in after the way they’d first met. But she had become close with the rest of the team and there undoubtedly was real loyalty under all her bluster. The way she had worked on the Hulk's lullaby should be proof enough.  
Also on the plus side: She hadn't tried to meddle with Tony's approach to being a mentor (as far as he knew) and at least the little witch actually behaved despite being more powerful than her brother. Maybe he should consider taking some advice from the redhead – if she deigned to talk to him about the concerns of guardianship. At the very least it might make everybody else back off and prove to them that he was taking things seriously.

Peter's word flood halted for a second and Tony stood up, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Sounds great, titch. I'll be back in a minute.” He went into the kitchen, where he tiredly ran his hands over his face and sighed. This whole evening would be so much easier to get through with alcohol. The bubbly for the toast wasn’t nearly enough to take the edge off. Not that it would take much to relax a little. It wouldn't be a problem at a real party but here it probably wouldn't go over well if anybody noticed – not that it seemed as if anybody would - and that was one of the problems living with spies, they always noticed more than you expected.  
Tony could deal with attention, enjoyed it even at times, provided it was the obvious kind of attention, not the quiet ‘I know everything you've done’ kind. Anyway it couldn't be a coincidence that there was no strong liquor on the table. Everybody else must have gotten some kind of memo. Maybe Tony just buried his under the stuff he'd deemed more important at the time.  
An independent issue was Jarvis, who would try to argue with him if he poured himself a drink because that's what he asked Jarvis to do after Pepper left. Well, after the initial drunken breakdown that had followed. It was ridiculous, as if changing this one thing, that hadn't even been a problem during their relationship, would make a difference. Alcohol wasn't the reason she left. Him being Iron Man was.  
He'd had such high hopes when he designed the tower and invited all of them to live with him. He should have known that it couldn't be. That he was utterly incapable of forming the kinds of relationships he imagined but he had hoped against reason. The kid was another try and part of it was going in the right direction – he'd known that he'd need help on this one. It was still hard to figure out where exactly he was going wrong right now. If only Pepper was here. Reliable, terrific Pepper. He missed boasting over their relationship. It was the one thing he'd had going for him, well, apart from being a rich genius and a philanthropist, but she had been proof. Proof that he could function like a normal human being. And he understood that she had to leave. He did. He had just been hoping that she would come back.

“Tony?” Oh great, Bruce must have followed him.  
“Yeah?” He answered tentatively, trying carefully to keep his tone modulated. He'd had high hopes for his friendship with Bruce as well. The Ultron fiasco had put a strain on it that he didn't know how to resolve.  
The other man's voice was gentle as usual: “Is there something specific you needed from the kitchen? Because we all thought we had everything out, but -” a pause and he continued a bit more forceful, “you just wanted to get away, didn't you?”  
“You're not that kind of doctor, remember?” Tony reminded flippantly, turning around to focus and it seemed to suck the energy out of his perpetually tired teammate. His response sounded weary: “I'm not but I am trying to be your friend.”  
Another non-confrontation, if it hadn't been in his nature from the start, the existence of 'the other guy' had seen to the development of that particular behavior pattern. It meant that Bruce couldn't be distracted by riling him up. He was already trying to summon the strength to get at the thing he saw as the core issue and Tony was willing to give him something. “I was thinking about fixing myself a drink. But upon review it seemed as if anything stronger than beer was blacklisted. Now I'm waffling.”  
Bruce didn’t sigh or pinch his nose or showed any of the signs that he wanted to get away. He came closer and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Tell me about the new project that keeps you in the lab at all hours.”  
It surprised him. It shouldn't have surprised him but he started with denial anyway: “It's not just one project, I -” “Tony,” Bruce cut in, “I know that look. There is one project that's special and if you're not ready to talk to me about it, that's fine, but don't try to deny it and I really want you to eat something. You need more than snack food. Most of your stashes in the labs are empty and you didn't even take the time to re-fill them.”  
“Stashes. I'm an addict now?” The engineer joked.  
“We're all addicted to food, Tony, and water and oxygen, those are important as well. They are not habits you should try kicking.” The dry humor in the words made Tony grin as he stated: “I remember why you are my favorite.”  
“Ah, yes. That must be the reason you put Vision up to send me a card for mother's day.”  
Unashamed and without missing a beat the billionaire pointed over his shoulder and started walking backwards in the direction of the door. “I actually feel ready to go back to that party now. So, I just -“

Smiling, Bruce watched his friend flee the kitchen. Once alone he quickly started to fill a bowl with ice cubes to bring back to the table for drinks. It was a superficial cover for the short absence but better than nothing.  
Trust Tony to play up being afraid of him when he had never shown any real fear of his unique condition. He had built a suit of armor to stop the Hulk if necessary but he had never shown any fear. It still helped, even after spending so much time in the middle of their group. They were, for the most part, formed to battle and while they managed outside of the field, they were not nearly as close-knitted as the media made everybody believe. They had been working on getting more comfortable around each other but also trying to expand their team.  
Still, Tony had been his first friend. And he had given them all a home that allowed for privacy and togetherness in equal parts. Who else would have or even _could_ have done that?  
The atmosphere had become much more lively while he was away but by now he hardly had to remind himself not to take that personally. It could have happened just as easily if he never left the room. Thor had launched into one of his stories. This one seemed to be special.  
“He took her hair?” Wanda asked appalled.  
“Sif is convinced of that, yes.”  
“And you're not? How could hair just be cut off in battle, when that's not what you're trying to do?” Pietro asked puzzled.  
“You'd be surprised.” Natasha drawled dryly. Her feet were in Clint's lap being massaged but now she was looking at him in an accusing manner.  
“I didn't expect you to move that way, Tash -” the archer started and was interrupted by a barefooted kick against his thigh.  
“I didn't mean that, I meant Napoli.” she stated mildly annoyed.  
“Oh.”  
“Be it as it may, Loki protested the accusation, and he could be very convincing, but alas Sif did not relent. I think it wasn't helping that he was trying to convince her that short hair would suit her better and be of less hindrance in a fight. So, we went on a quest to prove if not his innocence then at least his regret over bringing shame to another warrior.”

“How was it 'bringing shame to another warrior' when her hair got cut off?” Peter asked after he'd given that fact some thought. The story had quickly moved on to the questing that Thor always found to be more interesting than the reason for a quest. Still, the Asgardian patiently backtracked to explain: “In Asgard warriors wear their hair at least to their shoulders. Its length is a sign of our honor. As her hair was shorter after the cut, he had dishonored her according to our customs. It really wasn't all that relevant if he was meaning to do so or not.”  
“Hear that Clint? You stole my honor. I demand retribution,” Natasha exclaimed, brandishing a discarded pair of chopsticks in the general direction of her best friend.  
Her target didn't stop massaging her feet but used that special half whining, half laughing tone for his eloquent reply of: “Awww, Nat, come on.”  
“I'm going to kick your ass, Barton,” she mock-threatened, stabbing his cheek.  
“You do that every Tuesday,” came the slightly put upon reply.  
“So it wouldn't be retribution if I waited around. You may escape your punishment if you go on a quest to get me some cake.”  
“You jest, but it was that quest that earned me my Mjölnir.” Thor tried to get the attention back to his story but few things could stop Natasha when she had a goal.  
“Huh, doubt you'll find new weapons in the kitchen.” She mused. “Same old, same old. Maybe you need to leave the tower and go to a fancy bakery.”  
“How about, I get you some of this cake now, and we'll think of a way to -” shrill alarms started to sound and all of them sprung to action.

After the relative peace and quiet of the last few days perhaps it shouldn't be surprising that there was a mission. Pietro was fidgeting in his seat in the jet. It seemed highly unfair all of a sudden that those seats had been installed after the twins had joined the team, mainly to remind him that flashing around in such a close space was ill-advised. Safety protocols demanded staying seated as much as possible. He half-expected Stark making fun of him again but there was a briefing going on during the flight and he was blessedly spared further indignity.  
Nobody was fully prepared for the mob of paparazzi that had gathered near their landing site – the cameras were focusing on the incoming jet rather than the robots roaming the streets. Maybe they had already collected footage of that before the team arrived but still. There was no saying what would happen if the situation escalated. The lone camera man still focusing on the robots would get rich overnight if there was anything significant in his material. Maybe people just got tired of robot armies after a while. However some of the Avengers still found it difficult not to worry about Ultron being back when they spotted glittering metal.  
Usually the majority of reporters would wait until the situation was under control before they started clamoring for interviews. Not this time, everyone in this crowd seemed desperate to be first. They were building a barricade of people, standing in the way and they were mainly targeting the twins.  
“What do you have to say to the allegations that you - hey! I'm talking to you!”  
“How does it feel to become a citizen of the greatest nation on earth?  
“Just one smile for -”  
“Does either one of you still hold contact to people in Sokovia?”  
“Turn your head, sugar!”  
“Was it a relief to receive amnesty for your crimes against humanity?”  
“Over here!”

Wanda's face froze into an icy mask. While Pietro clearly was coming close to punching some of the more intrusive people, she focused on keeping the red from entering her eyes. This was the sort of media harassment they usually got shielded from in the tower. If the Captain hadn't ordered their team to stay together until they had a better impression of the whole situation, her brother would have grabbed her and sped past Thor through this wall of bodies to their meeting point. Natasha and Clint were staring impassively at all the microphones being shoved their way and hardly reacted at all. Steve was missing Tony's media savvy ways more with each second that was ticking past. Iron Man was doing recon with War Machine high above the commotion. Captain America had asked, once, for a path to be cleared and was now stuck repeating 'no comment' while he shuffled through the crowd.  
Peter was with Bruce and Sam back in the jet, waiting for further instructions. A small blessing in this mess. The mission was supposed to be relatively simple but there were hostages and the psycho wannabe villain of the week, the man in charge, had explicitly demanded to speak with the Avengers - which meant high alert regarding the possibility that this whole thing might turn out to be a trap or a maneuver to keep them busy while something else was happening. Nerves were thin and the media harassment made tempers flare high. They were all anxious to handle this as quickly as possible. So it really shouldn't have been a surprise when Pietro snapped. It just all happened very fast.

 

Steve duly noted that the team's curses had gotten really inventive over the last year.  
Clint’s worried voice came in over the comline: “Does anybody have eyes on Q.?”  
“Q-tip is getting the hostages out,” came the answer from Iron Man’s channel. “Maybe Rhodey can secure the perimeter. Somebody needs to pick off the bots coming in from North and West ASAP. They're moving in and I think they're trying to trip him up with some kind of live wire. I can't see anything inside the building.”  
Natasha sounded like she was strangling somebody when she gritted out: “None of us can see inside the building, that's why he was supposed to wait,” likely she had reached her targets and that was indeed a part of what she was doing.  
Steve was about to answer when Wanda chimed in: “I've got contact, there are two human guards, one of them is having doubts about this thing, and they are controlling a number of at least twenty robots. Petya managed to dodge them so far but they started to realize what's going on and - I can't shield him while he's moving at this speed. I could try shielding one of you instead -”  
“No," Steve decided, "try to get the guards under your control. Get into their heads, make them shut their robots off.”

As far as their fights usually went, this one ranked below average. But with one of them essentially going rogue there had been plenty of opportunities to get banged up. Under the guise of getting medical care most of the team was evacuated without having to go through the paparazzi again. Rhodey had offered to organize the much loathed clean-up duty and would remain on site a little longer, while Iron Man and Captain America stayed to give the vultures a few short quotes before joining the rest of the team. With everyone else safe inside the jet, Thor took his leave, declaring he would travel alone and check on some things.

 

“We should have left without giving them anything. Maybe that would teach them not to harass us.” Tony and Steve entered an unusually tense atmosphere. Bruce was bandaging Natasha while Sam took care of Clint and the twins were checking on each other. Peter was stuck to the ceiling and trying to keep track of everything at once.

Upon their entrance, he started babbling: “Glad you made it back even if we seem to be a smaller group right now, but hey, how was the battle? Did War Machine really offer to do clean-up and catch another flight? For some reason Thor seems to need some alone time as well. But who can blame him, huh? We were stuck in this sardine for what? One and a half hours? Who wants to go through that again? Um, did you have a run in with Ursula the sea witch out there?”  
Tony snorted as he sat down in the pilot’s seat and started the engine. “You know the silence might have something to do with someone assuming he is fast enough to save his heels without using his head.”  
The billionaire seemed unaware of the scowls aimed at his back but he fell silent nonetheless.  
Spider-Man dropped to the floor next to the twins and slipped off his mask: “What happened?” But Pietro had flashed off to his seat and Wanda stayed silent, switching between looking to her brother and focusing a pleading gaze on the fifteen-year-old.  
Peter got distracted when Bruce settled in his usual place and put on his headphones. There had been no code green but he was clearly upset. Turning around the boy noticed that there seemed to be a conversation expressed entirely by eye contact between Clint, Steve and Natasha. “What happened?” He asked a little louder and was fixed with a glare from all three of them. Interrupting them clearly wasn’t a good idea.  
Wanda had sat down beside her brother, was hugging him and whispering to him as he studied something in the vicinity of his knee. Bruce was keeping his eyes closed and listening to music. The only person likely to answer him now was his mentor and ‘distracting the pilot’ would definitely get him in trouble, even if they all knew that Mr. Stark was perfectly able to keep up a conversation through pretty much anything. While he was still wondering how this stifling ambience could be resolved, Sam laid a hand on his shoulder and quietly told him to sit down. “But I want to know what happened,” the whine almost made it out of his mouth however he stopped himself in the last second. It had been bad enough being the only one without an earpiece to follow the battle, now nobody was talking to him. The flight back would suck even more than the outward trip and he hadn’t even been needed to fight at the side of the Avengers.

 

All of them heaved a sigh of relieve when they were back in the tower. But the oppressive atmosphere of their flight didn’t lift completely as they were standing in the landing bay.  
“Mission debrief at 0700,” was all Steve said before Clint nodded towards everyone and led a sullen looking Pietro away, one hand clamped around the speedsters left biceps. Tony couldn't help a snort of laughter when the teen's right hand sneaked back to rub his bottom before the two were out of sight. Steve’s glare in that moment could probably have pinned a flame in its place.  
Wanda seemed close to breaking into tears. Peter was bouncing on and off the walls, filled to the brim with nervous energy.  
“Everybody grab a shower and get some sleep. There will be a training session after the debrief and I expect you all to be there.” Steve announced still in serious commandeering mode. For once, he didn’t crack a smile at Peter’s left-handed salute. He just left. But before that could weigh the hyperactive teen down, Sam nudged him. “Um, kid, usually a salute is done with the right hand.”  
After a moment of surprise Tony, Bruce and Peter all broke out into laughter.

 

“Pietro, I know those reporters are insufferable but that's no excuse for your behavior today.” “Clint, I ---” “Not another word. Go stand in the corner and take some time to think.”  
Pietro dragged his feet. He absolutely, positively hated standing in the corner. Spankings hurt but corner time was torture. Once he'd arrived at his destination he was soon vibrating on the balls of his feet.  
SMACK! A hand landed hard straight on his still sensitive butt. “OW”  
“Quit it.”  
“Clint, please.”  
“Are you done thinking? Because I know you're fast - and you're smarter than you act most of the time - but it usually takes you a bit longer to finish sulking and start thinking on what you should have done better. What am I supposed to do to get through to your thick head?”  
A cold shiver made his way down the nineteen-year-old’s spine and he exploded, turning around. “It's not a mystery, Clint,” his voice was close to yelling but his steam was running out quickly when he continued while facing the older man: “I didn't wait for Cap to finish his instructions before I ran in, put myself in danger and made it harder for all of us.” He paused before adding in a small voice: “It also made situation more dangerous for the hostages than it needed to be. I'm sorry.”  
Almost instantly a pair of strong arms pulled him into a warm embrace. “You made the henchmen all focus on gunning you down, I was worried about you and you didn't react to anything that was said over the com.”  
The closeness felt good but it also made him feel even more guilty over what he’d done. He let his head sink to Clint’s shoulder. “I was running too fast to hear what you guys were saying.”  
“I know. That's the problem.” Just a murmur in his ear but it incensed him again and made him pull away, seething for some, hard to pin down, reason. “The _problem_ is wasting time _talking_ when I could already be doing what needs to be done. If I had stopped to tell somebody what I wanted to do in Sokovia, I'd never have reached you and Costel in time.”  
Invoking the picture of the time Pietro had almost died, really didn’t help, so Clint cut him off: “Today's mission wasn't that time sensitive and you know it.”  
The statement made Pietro break fully free from the hug, cursing and complaining in his mother tongue about not being a child. But Clint didn’t budge: “I will keep treating you like a child if I think that's what you need. We had this conversation before,” seeing the look on the speedster’s face made him throw his hands up in a display of exasperation and pace the floor. “Besides, what am I supposed to do? Suspending you for insubordination -” “Clint!” “which _is_ the punishment an agent, an adult, would probably get – it's not really an option.” He paused to fix his charge with a look, making sure the message would sink in: “We _need_ you in the field. How would any of us feel if there were deaths that could have been avoided if only you had been there with your speed? _You_ ,” he actually pointed at the bratty teen, “don't want to stay in the tower the next time we go on a mission and _I_ don't want to leave you behind.” The archer paused a moment, rubbing his neck to calm down further. “Anyway if I go the official route on this, we'd have to talk with our team leader first and you can damn well count on the fact that Cap would go straight back to recommending a good spanking. He’d probably ask me why we're even talking about it.”  
Pietro's thoughts came to a sudden halt. “I can handle grown-up consequences. I'm the only one getting spanked -”  
“This isn't about what you can or cannot handle. And it's not about who is and isn't spanked. If Wanda had---”  
“Would you please let me finish? A spanking isn't enough.” Pietro declared close to tears and Clint’s eyes widened comically.  
“What?” Finally, he seemed to have his mentor’s attention so the young man relaxed a little, ducking his head: “I know I screwed up. I'll take a formal whipping. Don't throw yourself between me and the consequences of my actions.”  
“You can't seriously think—”  
“No Clint, please listen, I- I've been whipped before, in Sokovia. I got caught stealing. I was always quick but this was before the experiments. I'm not proud of it, but also not ashamed. Wanda and I needed - my point is: I can take it. You don't have to protect me.” No matter what the sinking feeling in his stomach told him.  
But his mentor objected: “Like hell I don't! How often do I need to tell you this: You're stuck with me.” “Cl---” “No. This is not up for discussion. Just yesterday you freaked out about the idea of somebody other than me punishing you.” Pietro thought he might be sick, this was the moment when Clint would --- “You're grounded.” It took a while for the words to sink in. Then he openly gaped: “What?” “You're grounded.” Clint repeated, sounding surer than he felt. “I don't know for how long. I guess, I'll tell you when it's over.” “Clint!” “You won't go to the gaming room, you won't even go to Nat and Wanda. And Wanda won't be allowed to visit you. In fact, you'll go to your room, right now.” And he started to usher him in the direction of his room. “Where is your StarkPad?” “In the living room but –-” “Good. It will stay in the living room. You'll stay in here unless I allow you to come out. You may text me if you need something. You may text Wanda to tell her about the situation. If you abuse the privilege of keeping your phone, I'll take it away. Are we clear?” A pause for confirmation.  
“But Clint” Pietro choked out and waited for an interruption that didn't come. His mentor simply looked at him.  
“I'm listening,” the younger man was prompted to continue.  
Pietro's mouth opened and closed a few times without any sound escaping. He swallowed and tried once more with tears in his eyes: “This isn't helping.” His hands were balled into fists and he lowered his head. A hand landed on each of his shoulders. Anchoring him down. “Hey,” Clint coaxed, “I need some time to clear my head and possibly to talk to some people. I'm sorry to make you wait even longer but this old man can't always keep up with you, punk.” They both managed a wry smile at each other before he finished his instructions with somewhat firm last words: “So stay in here and behave.” 

 

The familiar and soothing notes of The Nutcracker’s “Dance of the Sugar-plum fairy” pulled Wanda out of the cycle of guilt and pain coursing through her head. She was in the ballet room inside of Natasha's suite. The music filling the air in a way that was almost palpable and Natasha was dancing. She seemed young and carefree, even if you knew better. It was hypnotic. Wanda could almost glimpse another world where this strong woman hadn't been touched by death. A world where all of them lived different lives. Some might assume these lives were happier and maybe that was true. All that Wanda knew was that they hadn't met in the other world and never meeting the people in her life was a scary thought, terrifying in different ways, maybe even more terrifying than losing them for good.  
But the room was bright, sunlight filtering in and as the song neared its end Natasha extended a hand to invite Wanda to join her dance. The change in breathing as her ward became aware of her surroundings had been more than enough to let her know that it had worked.  
Wanda was calmer now and a smile bloomed on her face. They hardly ever talked in the ballet room especially not if music was playing. This was a time when they were closer than words allowed.  
Not alone with their thoughts but not trying to share them either.  
As her mentor helped her position, the song started over.

 

Clearing his head for the main part involved a talk to Laura, a short training session in his gym and a shower. When he was at the door to Pietro's room he heard something hitting the wall and swearing. A deep breath was purposefully drawn in and he closed his eyes, letting his forehead rest against the door for a moment before inquiring: “Jarvis, did Pietro punch his bedroom wall again?” “No, Agent Barton, he seems to have bumped into it with his feet.” His eyes flew open and, sure enough, when Clint opened the door he saw Pietro trying to balance on his hands, apparently only avoiding falling ass over teakettle by speeding through the room (slow enough to make him out but faster than Clint had seen anybody else moving on their hands before) and stabilizing by bumping against the nearest wall when he threatened to fall over. The former Carni leaned on the door frame and couldn’t keep himself from asking: “Need some help, Whitey?”  
“No! I'm good.” The speedster paused to look at him and after an intense second of eye contact they both started laughing. Pietro quickly was standing back on his feet. “Go clean yourself up. You burned a lot of calories. Do you think you could eat something?”  
“Yes, food sounds good.”  
“All right. I'm making pizza and brownies.” Clint was careful not to store too many perishables in his private kitchen. Too much of a hassle to sort through when there was so much to choose from in the community kitchen. For the most part he kept a lot of frozen food, conserves, things that held up well over months but pizza was made often enough to keep their favorite toppings around, some ready-to-roll dough and a few glasses of pre-cooked tomato sauce (courtesy of his wife). Not that it would take him long to cook it himself but it was a sweet reminder of home. Knowing that everything from tomatoes over garlic to the herbs had come from the kitchen garden of his family home just made the smell and taste that much better.  
Sometimes he liked to sneak a bit of a curry note in there when he reheated the sauce. It went well with some of the more experimental toppings. Not today though, today should be familiar and soothing so of course Pietro complained as he breezed into the kitchen. His damp curls tousled and sticking to his neck. “What? Are you out of ideas or are you trying to slowly bore me to death as punishment?” Then he went to the fridge and gulped some juice down straight from the bottle. Clint tried to smack him but the kid evaded his hand easily, turned around and grinned, bottle still in hand. “It's almost empty anyway, I'll finish it so it's not gross.”  
“You are in an unusually good mood for a boy in trouble.”  
“Well, I figured being in trouble because of my temper, I should work on not throwing a tantrum,” he replied cockily before turning pleading eyes towards the archer, “please, let me see Wanda. She didn't do anything wrong.”  
“You'll see your sister. There is the mission debrief, training, probably mealtimes together.” Pietro started frowning but Clint carried on. “Anyway, I don't think I'll have to ground you for a very long time. Laura and the kids say “Hi” and you're welcome on the farm if you get suspended – now or some time in the future. We could make it like an unofficial work camp.”  
The frown deepened. “I don't want to be suspended.” “Well, most people don't get to discuss what kinds of punishment they'd like to get.” Clint turned away to add a little bit more sweetcorn to the pizza toppings. “It's always up to the judge. Trouble is I was planning a visit anyway. That would basically just mean you're doing extra chores while we're there so probably that wouldn't seem right to you either.” He threw a glance back over his shoulder to see Pietro’s face as he replied: “That does seem a bit too easy.”  
Clint grinned at him. “I thought you might say that. I'm very proud of you.” The pizza went into the oven and he pulled off his oven mitt. “Natasha seems to have smuggled some salad in here. Please do something with it so we can, you know, eat it. I'll not have food going bad in my kitchen.”  
The teenager groaned. “How does she always know to bring that stuff before you even decide to eat here?”  
“She has methods. It won't do you any good to concern yourself with them. Salad, what do we do with it?”  
“We could use it for sandwiches soon? Bagels in the morning?”  
“I like that. But a little side salad now would mean we get to use these olives and the rest of the sweet corn and maybe one or two carrots, right away. Why do I have fresh carrots?”  
“I'd rather want to know why there's an aubergine. Neither of us likes those vile things.”  
“The eggplant? Oh no, that I know about, there is a recipe I wanted to try.” Pietro wrinkled his nose. “You _are_ trying to punish me with the food.”  
“Everything can and will be used against you, lightning. Everything.”


	5. Chapter 5

The dancing had helped but Wanda hadn’t heard anything from Pietro so after giving him every chance to come to her, a long luxurious shower and having a little snack with Natasha, she headed to Clint’s floor.  
Everything was dark.  
A little while back, she would have had to turn the light on but she knew the apartment well by now and was encouraged to always practise controlling her powers, so she decided to shield herself, in case anything was in a place where it wasn’t supposed to be, and started to make her way to her brother’s room. She was about to enter his room when her text sound rang through the apartment and she heard cursing inside. The door flew open and she was quickly pulled into familiar arms and landed on the bed. Despite the situation she started to giggle as she bounced a bit on the mattress.

“Shhhhh.”  
“What’s the matter, Petya?”  
“Look, I didn’t send you a text right away because I thought I could talk him out of it but I’m grounded.”  
“You’re what?”  
“I’m grounded. I’m not allowed to leave my room or have guests here and Clint specifically said that even you weren’t allowed to visit me.”  
Wanda straightened up: “He can’t do that!”  
“Shhhhhh.”  
Her brother was a nervous flash between the walls of his room.  
Then he stopped: “We have to get you out of here.”  
“Natasha knows that I came by. He’ll know the next time they talk.”  
Pietro groaned and threw himself next to his sister on the bed.  
“This isn’t so bad Petya. Clint will understand that it was just a small mistake.”  
“No, he’ll know that I didn’t take him seriously when he said it the first time. That’s what he’ll understand. I just thought I could convince him to take it back because _you_ hadn’t done anything wrong. I didn’t know how to tell you and now I screwed up this stupid grounding and he’ll whip me into next week.”  
“Clint wouldn’t ‘whip’ you, what are you talking about?”  
“Course he wouldn’t,” the boy mumbled, “except that I asked him to.”  
“Why would you do that? Don’t you think we’ve had enough of that when ---?” She paused and narrowed her eyes at him, “Petya!”  
“He was wondering what to do with me. I panicked. I didn't mean _he_ should do it but he won't let anybody else - and anyway, it wasn’t so bad.”  
“It wasn’t so bad? If they had caught you stealing one more time you would have been shot!”  
“So? Clint isn’t going to shoot me. He might think about shooting _at me_ , but only for training.”  
“You are unbelievable. You have the survival instincts of a dodo bird.”  
“Really? You think I’m too trusting?”  
“I don’t know, besides it was more that they didn’t know when to be afraid. Dodos are actually believed to be fast runners and to have very close familial ties, so the comparison stands.”  
“You are crazy, dear sister of mine.”  
“I quote from the Evertsz account: ‘Here we also found many wild Goats and all kind of Birds, which were not shy at all, because they very likely were not used to see men pursuing them, and which came us exceedingly well to pass having neither barrel nor ammunition to shoot them.These animals on our coming up to them stared at us and remained quiet where they stand, not knowing whether they had wings to fly away or legs to run off, and suffering us to approach them as close as we pleased. Amongst these birds were those which in India they call Dod-aersen (being a kind of very big goose); these birds are unable to fly, and instead of wings, they merely have a few small pins, yet they can run very swiftly. We drove them together into one place in such a manner that we could catch them with our hands, and when we held one of them by its leg, and that upon this it made a great noise, the others all on a sudden came running as fast as they could to its assistance, and by which they were caught and made prisoners also.’” Wanda declared in solemn tones.  
“We stayed too often in the library to keep warm. Aren’t you sick of books?”  
“I won’t even consider that a real question until you’ve shown me your head wound.”  
Pietro laughed softly.  
“If you ever ask me a question that stupid again, I’m going to raise alarms that my brother has been replaced by an impostor. In fact, if you ever - hey!”  
Pietro’s fingers danced over all the places where Wanda was most ticklish until she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud. Then he stopped abruptly. “I got the picture, Wandotschka.”  
“I love you. That’s why I’m going to leave now and I’ll give you the opportunity to explain what happened to Clint before he finds out another way and then I’ll give him an earful about assuming he has any right to keep us apart.”  
Turning around she shrieked when she saw the man, they'd just been talking about, leaning against the door frame. “I'd hoped the screaming could wait a bit,” he stated drily, massaging one of his temples with his free hand.  
Pietro started to stutter something but stopped when the older man held up his hand in a placating manner. “No need to explain. You wrote Wanda that she couldn't come. Naturally, she assumed I must have tortured you horribly and came to check on you. You tried to send her away,” the twins exchanged a look, “and she overwhelmed you with her powers to check out if you were fine. You have just managed to fight back, free yourself and explain which is why she was leaving. I will ignore all evidence to the contrary because a) I'm tired and b) I don't want to come up with any further punishments. I just want to get some sleep. Now scoot and no contradicting me or I'm going to tell Tasha that I managed to sneak up on you both without even trying.”  
Wanda leapt up and gave Clint a hug, Pietro could watch his mentor’s face soften until he pressed a kiss to the crown of the girl’s head. She let go shortly after that and almost danced out of the apartment.  
Clint was still standing at the door, looking vaguely confused and for a while they simply stared at each other. “Should I tuck you in? I mean, I'd trust you know how to do it yourself - but, just, it's okay. All right?”  
The teenager curled up and pulled his blanket around himself. “Go to sleep, old man. I can take care of myself.”  
“Yeah, that's what I was thinking,” Clint said, walked over to the bed, tousled Pietro's hair and smoothed the blanket over him. “Sleep tight, punk.” Yawning, he shuffled back to his own bed.

Meanwhile Tony Stark was fiddling with his latest invention. He had taken a shower and gotten himself some coffee. Sleep was not very high on the agenda until he fixed whatever was causing the problems with the simulation unit.  
And he should take care of some repairs on the suit. He had other models but the newest one wasn't ready yet and he would hate falling back on an earlier version.  
Jarvis would remind him of the debrief soon enough. Even if it would probably go more smoothly without him. Maybe he could get the Avengers around to accepting an interface with him. That would be the way to a glorious future. 

The next morning came too early and if the coffee smell would turn out to be a hallucination, he might need to kill someone. There was a whole coffee pot on a coaster on his nightstand and Clint didn’t even care about how it got there. One mug was set aside but all of it was hot enough to blur the air or maybe the blurring came from not being fully awake. He closed his hand on the mug’s handle and pulled it towards himself. Some of the precious drink sloshed onto the floor but he didn't care. It was scalding and strong enough to wake the dead. A whimper escaped from his throat.  
“Did you just ask me to marry you?” The heavy accent did not mask the amusement in the voice of his trainee. “No. Talking to the coffee,” he managed after a few more gulps and getting upright.  
“I might tell your wife that you're throwing around proposals in the morning.“  
“Go ahead, she knows not to take it seriously until I buy a ring. She's a very understanding woman and I proposed to her several times before she said yes. The first time might have gone pretty similar, now that I'm thinking about it.”  
Pietro laughed and carefully sat down next to him on the bed. The kid seemed to have gotten little sleep but one night every now and then was practically standard operating procedure, in Clint's opinion. Especially considering what the twins had gone through and what age they were. He would do his best to not let it become a pattern, he thought as he was swinging his legs over the side of the bed, but there were a limited amount of options.  
“You trying to get on my good side, kid?”  
“Seems like a smart idea.”  
“Yeah. But technically you left your room without permission.”  
“Awwww, dude, you can't be serious,” Pietro complained.  
“‘Dude’ is not a word you should use on your old man, brat. Especially in that tone.” Clint's eyes were dancing over the rim of his mug.  
“Well, maybe I've decided I can have a more adult relationship with my old man.”  
“Right. Because that's your decision to make. The second he can sit down again, he gets all cocky.”  
“It's still sore.”  
“Let me take a look.”  
“What, but, the debrief ---”  
Clint patted his lap and the kid sighed.  
It wasn't a long wait until he could look at the bare backside of his charge but the boy had obviously been reluctant. Clint reached for the arnica lotion in his nightstand. He could still see some bruising but it was healing nicely. And the speedster was definitely healing faster than his mentor himself. "Thoughtfully, he treated bottom and thighs, put the lotion away and released the blushing superhero with a couple of light pats."  
“Have you changed your mind? Because I'm tempted to spank you for the insubordination yesterday and just be done with it. Your bottom might still be healing but you could take it and I think by the end of it you might see things my way and forget that nonsense about a formal whipping, at least for a while.” Clint pulled Pietro to sit down either in his lap or right next to him. He was pleasantly surprised when the teen chose to sit on his lap and he opened his legs to make sure the boy's bottom could dip between them. “I told you when we started this that I thought you might like shedding the responsibilities you had to take on too soon and enjoy being a child for a bit, but I respect your choices. We can talk about these things.”  
Pietro looked thoughtful but didn't respond. He curled up to lean against the other man and snuggled closer. They sat for a while in companionable silence until Clint thought to ask: “How long till the debrief?”  
“About 20 minutes now.”  
“Awww,” the archer whined and lifted Pietro off so he could get ready quickly. Since the nineteen-year-old had been up long enough to eat something and prepare breakfast before waking the archer, they arrived on time without any problems. Clint still chewing on his bagel.

Steve was fretting by the time the team started to trickle in for the debrief. Peter had arrived first and when the boy had seen that they were alone, he took the opportunity to ask questions about Pietro. As a result his leader’s head was now filled with pictures of bruises and arrow shafts.  
Steve trusted Clint of course and it had been a good call to let him mentor the speedster. but the spanking Pietro had gotten for getting drunk had obviously been severe. Maybe the worst one the kid had gotten so far. He had been very reluctant to sit down for their little celebration.  
Being spanked any more on top of that, must have been unbelievably painful.  
Clint may have had the most experience out of everyone in the team and his kids had been delighted to see their father home but things were different on the job. Hawkeye had a discipline and precision that seemed inhuman and he held himself and his trainee to a very high standard. How often had the man pushed through the pain to get a job done? Maybe Natasha knew. She was usually the one fixing him up or announcing his wounds to the medics.  
Out of the field the man was pretty easy-going but taking care of Quicksilver had blurred the lines between professional and private behavior.

The day before when Steve wanted to tell everyone about the celebration in the evening, Pietro had looked unwell and Hawkeye had escorted him out with the same look in his eye he got before going on a mission.  
Both of them were well on their way when Steve heard the sound of a smack travelling back to him.

At the time it had only made him think about Peter's deteriorating behavior. The boy had started out very polite and shy but he had soon started to walk all over everything, test what he could get away with and even play pranks that bordered on being dangerous. Nothing seemed to stop him for long.  
Clint's argument about the rights of a commander had some merits even if Steve didn't want to spank the kid. It might have been tempting to discipline him that way, sometimes, but only until he began scolding him and saw a contrite, vulnerable little kid in front of him. Sadly it became more and more clear that not spanking him might indeed be the root of their problem.  
As different as the kids were, he could just look at Pietro for comparison. That boy used to run off his mouth in a way that had even been impressive when you were used to Tony. He had used his speed to run circles around all of them and got into stuff he wasn't supposed to see or touch. Clint, however, had put a stop to that soon. And while he hadn't exactly announced it at the time, the way he'd done it had been obvious from the kid's squirming.  
Quicksilver was well adjusted to the Avengers now, maybe a little too quiet. While Wanda tried hard to earn approval, Pietro seemed content with flying under the radar. Although Peter's arrival had stirred things up there as well. Conveniently going missing the night after they'd all been looking for the fifteen-year-old, well, it seemed like Clint and Natasha had been right about the situation starting to affect the whole team.

So, when Steve had walked in on Clint having a staring contest with a bottle of vodka, later the same day, he had seen an opportunity.  
“Natasha told me he'd gotten drunk. Is that the rest of it?”  
“Yes. Stark left it just standing around. Can you believe it?”  
“No reason why he should have taken it but I guess he was curious.”  
“Called it an experiment which pretty much let him shut Jarvis down, kept the AI from informing anybody about what was going on.”  
“Oh.” Both quietly wondered about the kind of experiments that might be going on in the tower before Clint continued talking: “And how did he get that idea? Because von Strucker got both him and Wanda drunk when they were locked into cells and new to their powers. He experimented on them as if they were ---” he stopped himself from following that thought for now and got back to the main issue: “Anyway, seeing the alcohol standing around, he decided that was just what his little pity party was missing,” the archer heaved a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to empty it into the drain but it feels wasteful somehow.”  
Wordlessly, Steve took the bottle and started to empty the rest of its contents into the drain. Relief flooded the marksman’s features and he sounded as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders. “I want to take Quicksilver back to the farm for a while. He needs an opportunity to run and push himself, work out his frustration in a productive manner. Maybe you can have the situation with Stark and the little genius resolved while we're gone. Wanda might decide to come with us and then Nat probably wants to at least stop by - I realise that would split the team but - you know we could be back here if there's an emergency and I think we could all use a little distance.”  
Steve winced “What happened?”  
“Tried to talk to Tony. Apparently Peter is a ‘good’ kid so the different treatment is justified,” bitterness dripped from the words.  
“I'm sure Tony didn't mean it like that.”  
“It doesn't matter what he means as long as he acts like this. I know that I'm immature at times, I like having fun, but Tony Stark just has to always be right even if he contradicts himself in the process. How does he even think anyone knows how to spank? It's not like you get a course when you become a parent.”  
“I guess you don't. Maybe you could give us courses, being the resident expert.”  
“Like showing you ‘my technique’ on a pillow? That's far from the real thing. Learning by doing. You can't just follow a program.”  
“Peter is tiny.”  
“Talk about tiny? Imagine how it felt when I had to spank Lila and Cooper for the first time. I held those kids after they were born. They practically fit into my hands. That's tiny! Peter is a teenager and tougher than you guys seem to believe, won't be his first spanking neither. I bet he isn't smaller than you were at his age and you've been spanked, haven't you?”  
“True, I have. Maybe less than other kids at the time but we didn't get away with much as a general rule. Best to just keep out of the way, not be seen or heard. I don't think I want that for our younger team members.”  
“I hear you. With my father it was basically a case of ‘be seen, get smacked’. You don't have to be a genius to figure out what's wrong with that. My mentor was better, far from perfect, but better. Always had a reason and let me figure out why I was getting my ass beat and when I did good, he told me that too.”  
“My mom, she would talk with me and console me afterwards. I think that's the part where I truly learned something from it. And it could be stuff she'd said before a dozen times. It just got my attention in a whole different way.” Steve chuckled at the memory.  
“Sounds like she was doing it right, then. I never had someone do that for me myself, to be honest, but - I always wondered - because most days that was all I wanted, a reason and some company. How could anyone _not_ try to fix it when a child is crying or afraid? How can you put them into that state of misery? But pain is the teacher nature gave us and sometimes everything else makes a situation worse. The important thing is making sure there's a lesson in it and that there is a way back to normal, right? What's important to me is, having people to ground me. I have Laura and Nat and, all of you, really. None of you would stand for me abusing a kid. Even if I'd ever find myself tempted to follow in my father's footsteps, you'll all keep me right.”

In his exasperation the night before, Steve had decided to leave the two to do their thing and he had assumed there would be a spanking. But now he felt as if he hadn’t taken the boy's state into full consideration. The last time he had seen the kid as miserable and quiet as he’d been on their way back was about a year ago. He had visited the speedster in the hospital and Pietro’s guilt about working with Ultron had still been fresh.  
Disobedience in the field should be a clean-cut case but he hadn’t even thought about him still being sore.  
And the circumstances had been stressful for all of them. No double jeopardy was one thing but maybe he should have taken a more hands on approach, making sure that there would be no regrets between mentor and trainee, position himself as the final authority of the team.  
The bond between the twins and their mentors was something precious. 

Wanda seemed to be unusually agitated, when she entered the room. She kept looking around and bouncing her knees. With her powers and that close bond to her brother, she often showed signs about the state he was in.  
Had he made the right call? Had he screwed up with the way he had kept himself at a distance? Steve trusted Clint, of course, but he couldn't help worrying.  
And then Hawkeye and Quicksilver arrived. The younger man looking nervous but none the worse for wear, kept in check by the hand on his shoulder. Steve immediately felt better. He noticed that Natasha held Wanda in her seat and both women were glaring at Clint but that wasn't something he'd get into voluntarily. Pietro sat down carefully but with more ease than expected. 

Steve wanted to keep the debrief short but there was one member of the team still missing. He was about to address that fact when a small disc on the table made a whirring noise and Tony's head appeared floating over the empty seat.  
“Good morning, fellow Avengers!”

Natasha was the only one who managed to look like there was nothing out of the ordinary. Her only reaction had been slinging one arm around the Scarlet Witch, whose hair had started to stand on edge and was crackling with red sparks. A bubble of energy had the disc surrounded as if it to shield everyone, should it explode - likely that was exactly what it was doing.  
Almost everybody was simply staring at the apparition.  
“I see you all gaping at me.” Tony smirked, “You probably didn't think I'd make it in time.”  
Peter stretched his hand out to grab the disc and the head disappeared. Tony's voice however was still transmitted: “Rude, Anansi junior.“ The billionaire laughed as his protégé turned the device around to inspect it from different angles.  
“I just want to look at it. When did you build a miniaturised holographic projector?”  
“When I decided to work on hard-light projection a few years ago. It's kind of important to figure out the holo stuff first. Pepper kept telling me not to use it. But we're here to discuss the mission and nobody can see me while you have your hand in front of the beam.”  
“A few years ago? What's -” “Peter!” Steve cut the excited boy off and the disc returned to its place on the table.  
Tony's head reappeared, still smirking. “Hey, at least he understands the significance of this.”  
“Is there a reason you didn't join us in person, Tony?”  
“Yes. I've got work to do. This way I can live the dream of being in two places at once.”  
“No. This is not how this works.”  
“I don’t see why not. There's no sensitive material in yesterday's mission.”  
“There will be a discussion about our team and you're not phoning in for this.”  
“This is not “phoning in”. I made a sophisticated holographic interface to represent me in the meeting room.” The disc made a few more noises and a full body hologram was sitting in Tony's chair. The hologram waved his hands around expressively. “See? I can adjust the setting.” He transferred a screwdriver from his hand to his mouth and fiddled with something that was invisible to all of them. “I just thought the head would be less confusing for a start.”  
“Tony,” Rhodey said, taking a deep breath, “you agreed to be here for the debrief. Nobody had much sleep. Get your ass in gear.”  
The billionaire took the screwdriver back into his hand and blew a raspberry. “Fine. But you're all backwards thinking spoilsports,” he groused, “and there'd better be coffee.”  
The little disc shut down and the silence echoed through the meeting room. “Okay,“ Sam recovered first, “who else does not want to deal with Tony when he hasn't had coffee?”  
The show of hands was unanimous and Clint nudged Pietro. “How about you fetch the rest of that pot you made for me, lightning, and we'll start on having some more prepared.”

The group migrated to the kitchen for a little while. Steve sighed. Maybe it had been too much to expect all of them to be ready this early when they had come in late at night _and_ in desperate need of some time to wind down. Peter had grabbed the holo-disc from the table and was still engrossed in playing around with it. Barely containing himself from popping the casing open.  
Wanda had hissed at Clint and Natasha was still glaring at him, yet the man seemed remarkably little concerned about their behavior. But when he noticed Steve watching them, he signaled that he wanted a talk later.  
Steve made sure to keep his Captain America persona in place. He felt it was needed. Somebody needed to hold everything together despite the tension headache building up. 

The debrief started about an hour later than planned and soon made him want to lie down for a couple of hours. Probably not surprising, considering he had barely napped between working out his frustration and having his own debrief. At least the data recovered during the clean up seemed to confirm their impression that it had indeed been an isolated case rather than a large-scale operation.  
Before sending the kids down to the training room, Cap made sure to praise Wanda's inventiveness and Peter's patience throughout the mission. He hugged both of them and he was sure he could feel Pietro's eyes on him although he couldn't catch the quickest member of their team while he was looking. The boy acted completely nonchalant, but tensed when Steve decided to approach him. “Quicksilver, you brought all the hostages out alive. And I noticed that your stamina has improved. I think we don't tell you enough how much we rely on your abilities. I'm sure Clint and you discussed what went wrong yesterday, so -” He stopped himself, realising there were tears pooling in the teenager's eyes and pulled him into a brief hug, pretending not to notice. Sure, the kid had been impulsive but not reacting to the things said over the com had more to do with technical difficulties than with stubbornness - even if that was hard to remember sometimes. He usually stopped to listen when he noticed something being said but there were bound to be situations when he couldn’t afford to slow down. Maybe Tony could come up with a solution to that particular problem. 

Thankfully, their inventor hadn't managed to duck out, yet when Steve let go of Pietro. He was caught in a hushed discussion with Rhodey. It seemed as if the training session could go ahead as planned.


	6. Chapter 6

Cap’s hugs were nice even if Pietro usually couldn’t enjoy them completely. The man simply didn’t seem to care about privacy.  
It would be one thing for his mentor to hug him in front of the whole team but Clint usually expressed his affection in less mushy ways in front of others.  
Hugging also seemed to invite Mr. Stark’s attention, like a weird magnetism, and dealing with that man was still stirring up a lot of conflicting emotions. So Pietro tended to start squirming and trying to get out quickly (at least by the usual human standards). But he could still admit that, in theory, the hugs were pleasant. Wanda never seemed to have any second thoughts about situations like these but then again she genuinely deserved all her hugs for good behaviour. Steve’s compliment and the following hug had taken him by surprise and he had to stop himself from blurting out something stupid.  
Because he really deserved the worst kind of beating for endangering the hostages and everyone on the team by disobeying orders - but if he brought that up now, would Clint get in trouble for postponing his real punishment? This had never happened before and the speedster was beginning to realise that he might have underestimated the level of involvement each of the grown-ups actually had regarding the younger team members.  
Clint was a great mentor. He had also very effectively shielded his trainee whenever he'd messed up. Clint was always around or showed up to handle things and often he had made sure that the teenager apologised before the others even realised that there was an issue. There had been the time when Pietro had effectively stolen food from the shared kitchen to stash in his room. Halfway through hiding everything he’d been interrupted:  
“Thor is going to be upset when he’ll notice his Pop-Tarts are missing and he _will_ notice. He just ordered them specifically and Jarvis told him that they arrived.” The archer had said, leaning in the door frame and startling the speedster. “And there are other people who would be unhappy if certain things aren’t where they are supposed to be,” he continued in an even tone, “I can understand that you want to have food in your room, punk. And I've shown you how to order stuff, didn't I? You can try things that are for everyone but don’t take the whole package.” The man sighed when he saw the reaction his words prompted. “Don’t look at me like that, Whitey. I’m not going to punish you over this. Let’s sort through these things and I tell you which ones have to go back and which ones are safe to keep. After that we can place an order for some food specifically for you to stash away. It’ll probably be here tomorrow and come right up to our apartment.” A ruffling of his locks and they had done exactly as suggested and when the tower started shaking because Thor was getting angry looking for his treats, Hawkeye had taken the worst of the Asgardian’s frustration by delivering the Pop-Tarts into the kitchen with a foam tipped arrow. By the time Pietro nervously stuttered out his apology, it had been accepted with royal grace.  
Even now, as soon as Cap let go, Clint's hand was landing on his back and gently steering him towards the training room. 

The training was brutal. They were pushed hard in these new scenarios. Stark’s usual reckless behaviour made him fly right into a trap for the first and second maneuver. He only avoided it during the third because Hawkeye had already spotted the trigger and figured out how to deactivate it.  
Pietro was doubled over when Cap finally called it quits for the day and he slid to the floor panting but trying to recover. Wanda had enough energy left to crawl over and flop down nearby, settling her head next to his. The Spider-kid seemed mostly emotionally spent but sprawled out on the floor in a show of solidarity. The older boy would have liked it better if the younger had been able to keep his mouth shut but thankfully he seemed to be capable to tune the incessant babbling out. At least until the kid muttered something that caught his attention.

“Total Spankage.” Peter assessed the situation and waited for a reaction from the twins. Wanda snorted in that way that meant she was hiding a laugh and Pietro turned his head towards him. “What would you know about that, Zoltoy rebenu?” The Sokovian sounded harsh to the fifteen-year-old’s ears and the tone outraged him a little. “What did you just call me?” He demanded an explanation.  
“Golden child.” Wanda happily chipped in. “He referenced that you seem to be favored because you don’t actually get spanked - ever.”  
“Oh.” The younger boy squirmed. “I guess I’m just, maybe, ---” but he drew a blank. “I’ve been spanked by my aunt and uncle. I mean, it’s not like I’m completely clueless. Mr. Stark says as long as I respond to reason we can talk things through but I might get - for serious things.”  
Wanda’s voice was soft: “And is that what happens, payuk?”  
“I don’t know why you two are acting like this.” The youngest of their team was pouting now.  
“Hey, you’ve seen Clint in action on your very first day here and you had a view of my ass just yesterday. If you bring it up -” the speedster reconsidered, rolling to his feet and stretching, “you brought it up. And I should probably go to my room if I don’t want to annoy my mentor into taking drastic action when I'm still sore.”  
“You know what Papa used to say,” his sister said wistfully before adding something in their mother tongue that made him wince and speed off.  
Peter was confused: “What? Why?”  
“Clint grounded him to his room. He’s not allowed to spend time anywhere else without express permission.” The girl was scowling now.  
“And what did you just say?”  
“Something I shouldn't have,” she sighed before she started to explain: “Papa used to say that if you’re not too sore to misbehave, you can take another spanking.”  
The boy’s eyes widened in shock. “That’s horrible.”  
“I shouldn’t have said it.” She summoned her phone and started to type a message to apologize. “I don’t think he ever actually did have to go through with that particular threat. It’s just supposed to make you think before you act and - I don't know. Maybe there's some truth in it.”  
“How can you be so calm about this? Don't you get embarrassed, thinking about it?”  
“I haven't been spanked in years. And if it were to happen,” she shrugged and made it look graceful despite lying on the floor, “I've been through worse.”  
Peter jumped up. “How do you know?”  
“For one, I have a psychic link to my brother that's pretty much permanent. Secondly, I've lived here for a year and if someone wanted to torture us I would have picked up on it by now. The Avengers are good people. Fair. And they listen.”  
Peter mulled that over and decided to shift the topic by asking the obvious question:  
“Why don’t we go visit Pietro in his room?” Wanda’s scowl returned.  
“Grounded apparently means he needs to be alone. No visitors. I went there yesterday and we were caught. He’ll get into real trouble if that happens again.” She paused to finish her message and pressed send. “He still has his phone but Clint didn’t specify what he’s allowed to do with it so he’ll only answer if it’s important enough.”  
That didn’t faze the young inventor: “Doesn’t mean we can’t send him stuff to entertain him.”

Steve looked pretty tired after their training session but Clint knew that he wouldn’t be able to stand up any time soon once he was sitting down. Sitting would be the beginning of the end. It wasn’t even noon and the day already felt too long. All he wanted was a rest, some time to catch his breath and a snack. Yes, something to eat would be good as well. But life didn’t care about his wishes. It just didn’t work that way.  
He really should have retired from this hero gig by now, instead of taking on more responsibilities for the team. None of the Avengers had seen him as a father figure before they’d known he actually was a father. But things had changed and now there was a matter that needed to be settled as soon as possible.  
His bratty superhero in training was lying collapsed on the floor and he probably deserved this little break after training. As long as he was in his room before Clint got back to the apartment that would be good enough. The grounding was only a stopgap measure and while Natasha hadn't really said anything, her disapproval of this whole situation was tangible. Most of that was likely because it affected Wanda and by extension herself and he hadn’t taken the time to explain things to her while Wanda had undoubtedly been distressed and complaining about it.  
He did feel bad about causing the kids distress but right now, Captain America was walking away and Clint needed to settle something with him that would hopefully resolve this.  
Pietro had been well-behaved - a show of trust might help healing his self-esteem. So Clint followed Steve without reminding his charge to return to his room ASAP. The boy seemed happy for the time being but was also very clearly struggling with the unusual restriction. What they really needed was a punishment that would allow him to let go of the guilt, he was carrying around, about letting his team down and endangering the hostages. Corporal punishment was not just the most effective, it seemed to be the only thing that worked for the speedster and that was the most important part.  
In all likelihood the main reason grounding him seemed to be enough for now was that the teen knew it wasn’t the end of the matter. Just like sending him to a corner to think before a spanking often helped to get through to him because he was giving up control. But a timeout alone usually failed to change his behaviour for long. Restricting him to his room would be useless without a follow-up. Clint wasn't happy about what he needed to do or that he couldn't do it alone but he was positive it was the right thing, the best and quickest solution for his current dilemma. He just needed Steve on board.

Steve had to suppress a sigh when Hawkeye caught up with him while he was heading to his apartment but he steeled himself to do whatever needed to be done. The other man wouldn’t come to him if it wasn’t important and finding out what happened with Quicksilver might actually help in letting him rest easier.  
The archer remained silent and followed him, keeping to the same pace. ‘Living room or study?’ The leader wondered. The office would make it easier to fulfil his role as a leader right now - they were both tired - but the living room or lounge area would be more comfortable, friendlier, and Steve liked them being friends instead of just colleagues.  
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, walking past the door to his office into the lounge and was instantly glad of his choice when he could see the other man relax. It was not just heroes in training who could be intimidated by a formal atmosphere then.  
“Would you like a beer?” Steve tried to lighten the mood a bit more. Clint countered with the same levity while he was sitting down: “I don’t think I should get too comfortable. But I'd like a beer.”  
Being a good host Steve supplied the beer and also opened one for himself before he tried to get the conversation going: “How are things?”  
The other man held his bottle in both hands while he stared into its depths before he faced his friend and leader again. “Pietro asked for a grown-up punishment and I've grounded him until we've figured out what to do. To be honest I'm at a bit of a loss there,” he finally supplied.  
So the kid hadn't been spanked again. That explained some of his earlier observations but there was one point that needed to be mentioned and Steve tried to address it as neutrally as possible: “It's understandable that he didn't want another spanking, I guess. But you can't let him decide his punishment for disobeying orders.”  
There was no hesitation before Clint's answer though he paused before he went on to explain more: “I agree with you, of course, just, he actually protested that a spanking would be too lenient.”  
Steve's eyebrows shot up and he might have said something if he hadn't been too stunned.  
“And, for the record, he hates being grounded. He’s struggling with the concept but he tries. Steve.” The archer nervously ran his fingers through his short hair before he could continue: “He asked to be whipped,” there was a hint of brokenness in his voice and posture now, “and he went at me as if he thinks I’m sheltering him from the police or something. I wish I could say I don’t know how he gets these ideas but he said he’s been whipped before. A judicial sentence.” He fixed Steve with a stare, “I can’t handle this one alone and I thought, maybe if _you_ talk to him. You could be there during his punishment, say when it's enough.”  
The image made the supersoldier balk and he protested: “I can’t - that is insane.”  
Clint pressed his lips together and thought it over once again. “Military discipline?” He deflated after the suggestion and put his head down into his hands. “I don’t know what to do, man, and I think it's important that you are involved with his punishment this time.” He took a deep breath and continued more sure of himself: “You’re the one he disobeyed. He's struggling to find his place. He trusts Nat and me, Wanda of course, but he honestly seemed surprised that you even wanted him on the team.” He gulped down some of his beer and then set the bottle aside. Steve leaned in and put a hand on his shoulder.  
“Clint, I saw two kids with incredible powers, burdened beyond their years, and thought they needed a place to stay, a family. But I don't -” He drew his hand back to gesture helplessly, “things seemed to work.”  
“They did,” Clint assured him, “and they will again once we've solved this. There might be other problems, there always are, but we'll solve those too.”  
Steve sighed and decided to articulate his thoughts in an attempt to find the solution. “Tony was right about one thing. I don’t want the kids to be soldiers. They are just supposed to be good people and with their powers - they are fighters. We need some training and discipline to be effective as a team but - maybe we should let the punishment fit the crime. He disobeyed, he gets special exercises with me. Exercises about following orders.”  
Clint brightened up and relaxed enough to take another sip of his beer. “That could work ” he declared, ”makes sense, too. You’ll need to push him physically as well as mentally.”  
Glad that they had found something Steve promised: “I’ll work out a schedule - you can look over the training exercises I want to do and give your input” He cut himself off with a yaw-cracking yawn and his teammate grinned at him. Standing up the marksman said: “I better leave, make sure the punk’s behaving and see about lifting his grounding. Thanks, Cap.”  
He lazily tipped his forehead with two fingers and grabbed his bottle before turning to go.  
But he still caught the slow nod Steve directed towards him and heard the parting words: “You can accompany him to my study when I lecture him about the Avengers being a family, even if it may be a dysfunctional one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter but I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Comments can make my day. Best wishes to all of you.


	7. Chapter 7

Blaring sounds were greeting Clint in his apartment. Pietro was listening to music.  
If only it wasn’t such a played-out cliché to yell at teenagers to keep the noise, they liked to call music, down. It wouldn’t feel like playing a role to do just that if it wasn’t one of the first pictures springing to mind as pointless conflicts between generations. At least most parents did not have to put up with everything being played at speeds faster than their mind could follow. It was tempting just to turn around and wait until the worst was over. Wait until the kid had managed to calm himself down. This was proof that Pietro needed a distraction badly and was too emotional to be able to put up with the slow crawl of “normal” time. But to Clint it also drove home the point that the time, the speedster had spent alone, was stretching out around him. What had been maybe half an hour alone in his room, must have felt like several hours. Miserable hours in all likelihood. If time already felt longer for normal people when they were wishing for something to end, how much worse would it have to be for somebody with Pietro’s powers?  
Making his way through the apartment the music might have made the archer wish for deafness if he hadn’t had experiences in that regard. No, deafness was not preferable even if he wouldn’t have to put up with this assault on his ears. There was a reason this could qualify as torture but it was important to remember that the kid wasn’t doing it out of spite. He simply didn’t have that many options when he’d been ordered to stay in his room on his own. It would be cruel to keep him waiting any longer, especially with the level of distress the music suggested and with everything pointing at how hard he was trying to be good.  
Clint knocked, despite a strong conviction that it would go unheard, and took a deep breath before he opened the door.  
Pietro Maximoff was lying on top of his bed, head buried under the pillow. His phone was blinking, signaling new messages, and Clint frowned about it being ignored. He turned the music down and saw his charge cringe for a fraction of a split second. Almost before the moment had passed the teenager was sitting up and facing his guardian expectantly.  
“Good news.” Clint started and fumbled a bit for words. He almost had what he wanted to say, it was on the tip of his tongue, when he noticed Pietro’s tapping foot.  
“Dude, just spit it out.” Abruptly, Clint turned the music off completely. Maybe it would have been better if he’d turned the speed back gradually, he thought as he watched the brat try to adjust, but it had just become too much. He quickly walked towards the boy. And Pietro looked like a much younger boy now, eyes widening and watching him come closer, still caught between different perceptions of time. Clint settled his hands on his shoulders and could see the kid’s breath even out.  
“Are you okay?” A nod.  
“The good news is that Steve and I came to an agreement. He wants both of us in his office later today. I was thinking of keeping your grounding in place until that meeting is over but I think you suffered enough. What’s up with your phone?”  
“Peter and Wanda wanted to keep me entertained, they’ve been texting every few minutes - you said I shouldn’t, I didn’t - it’s not important. It’s not what my phone is for right now, right?”  
“You’re right, it isn’t.” Clint sat down next to the awkward teen and hugged him close. “I’ll make things more clear if we ever have to repeat this.” Pietro made a little noise of protest but still relaxed in his mentor’s arms.  
After cuddling the junior superhero for a bit, the older man cleared his throat: “So, I would be glad if you’d like to stay with me while I crash on the couch, eat something and watch a trashy movie but you’re free to go, do whatever you want with your break.”  
His charge started bouncing as if he had been grounded for a week instead of what amounted to less than half of a day - a lot of the time spent sleeping or busying himself - and his sudden good mood was catching.  
Clint tousled his locks and was pushed away, all in good nature, but it was straining his stitches and, damn, he had already pulled a few of them during the training session. A little blood started to seep through his shirt and of course the kid noticed.  
He was gone and back in a flash, apologising frantically while Clint was still cursing his bad luck.  
“First Aid Kit?” He managed to question but the teen was still too caught up in his horror, eyes fixed on the growing stain.  
“I'm sorry, sorry, Clint.”  
“It's fine.” The archer replied, resisting the impulse to just press his shirt against the wound to stop the blood flow. He instead busied his hands by stroking Pietro's hair and cheeks gently - hoping to pull him out of his state of shock. He didn't have to wait long to see his ministrations take effect and repeated his question more softly: “Where's the first aid kit?” It should have been the first thing to be fetched in a situation like this but clearly his first trip had pursued a different goal. He was off and back again, before the kit was handed over.  
Blurry blue mist was curling around Pietro's body and evaporating into nothingness. “I just pulled some stitches during training. Not your fault, lightning.” Clint tried to reassure, wondering how to calm the speedster down further. He was fidgeting but otherwise kept himself in one place, careful to stay out of reach. “I could use some help with my shirt.” The senior Avenger issued an indirect command and was immediately helped. Encouraged he kept commenting on the progress: “Careful.” “Yes.” “Thanks.” until he was sitting bare-chested and showing off his battered torso. Mostly colourful from blunt impact but there was the wound that had made him thankful for his battle suit, bleeding again and he was sure the punk had seen much worse at a younger age even if it was more blood than he had expected. “See, uh, okay, this looks bad,” he said, quickly applying one of the sterile compresses, “but I can easily fix this myself or you could help me. I told you all I know about field medicine. Should be time for a practical lesson.”  
That was the final push to make Pietro find his voice again: “We have time to make sure the area is sterile before doing anything else?”  
The statement came haltingly, sounding like a question but everything pointed towards the shock lifting.  
“Yes. Good. You can use this.” Clint handed him a package of gauze and some disinfectant. He held his breath while Pietro carefully went to work and used the moment the kid finished to ask what he really wanted to know: “Now, tell me, who will barge in here to check up on me?”  
“I don’t -“  
“You told someone I was bleeding, when you first ran off, and I want to know who. So I can prepare myself.”  
“Nat.” The speedster admitted and Clint sighed.  
“Of course you picked Tasha. Listen, punk: If this happens again and I'm not unconscious or anything, please do me a favour and fetch the first aid kit before you do anything else. Talk to me and check on the actual damage-”  
“CLINT!” Natasha’s voice sounded through the apartment. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING?” He didn't have time to yell back before she was rushing into the room. Her face seemingly emotionless, she started to tease him, relaxing ever so slightly: “Here you are. What? You couldn't answer me when I ask you something?”  
“Knew it'd be a waste of breath.” He grinned when she moved in close and shifted her attention to the only other person in the room:  
“And what do you think you're doing, Pietro? Have you even washed your hands?” She inspected his work so far, calming down a bit more. This was child's play compared to a lot of other situations they'd been in over the years.  
“Have you washed your hands before you started groping where I've just sterilised?” Pietro shot back, in an irritated tone, despite his obvious relief about having her take control.  
“I hope you are aware that the germs on your hand don't die faster just because you move faster and no, but I did use hand sanitiser.” Natasha responded without looking up from her inspection.  
“Oh.” The speedster fell silent and tried to keep still, observing the situation.  
“Clint. Hand over those strips. You can't possibly apply them at the right angle, you dolt.” The redhead commanded.  
“I wanted to give my protégé the opportunity to learn how to do it.” The marksman shot back but readily obeyed, ignoring the sound of nearing feet.  
“Yeah, right.” Natasha sounded dismissive. “That's not happening.”  
Steve burst into the room and slightly confused came to an abrupt halt. “Nat! What's the situation?”  
“Pulled stitches,” she explained, “We stopped the bleeding and these strips should hold -” Steve's oh so open face went from concerned to promising a reckoning and Clint decided to interrupt: “Hey Winghead. Nice of you to stop by-”  
“Did this happen during training?” He was swiftly cut off himself.  
“It didn't bleed during training,” seemed like the important point to stress but it didn't protect him from the infuriated and earnest voice of one Steve Rogers who came closer and towered over him.  
“Clint! You knew you pulled your stitches and just sat around my apartment without saying anything? I could have fixed it then and there. Instead you walk out as if it's nothing and rip the wound open again?” Questions like that usually ended with an insult in Clint's experience but the paragon of truth and virtue stayed oddly silent in that regard. His own head filled in the blanks though.  
“I'm fine. It's fine.” He tried to drown out the things his brain hurled at him. What was it about Captain America that made you relive being a child? He was starting to feel light-headed and didn't have the energy to get angry in return. Especially with the guy critically examining his bruises as well as the intact stitches and Nat’s handiwork. Pietro was fidgeting and didn't lose the guilty expression on his face. 

But maybe that was understandable. This was the biggest wound Hawkeye had suffered during a mission since the whole thing with Loki’s staff and Ultron so the kid had never witnessed this whole dance before. And with him going against orders of course he'd blame himself.  
“It's not fine.” Natasha simply stated and her capable hands were holding him steady despite the fatigue. She swept some sweat off of his face and called out to a new arrival in the apartment: “Bruce - Pietro's room!”  
“This is getting way too crowded, guys.” Clint tried to protest, sounding weak and slurred to his own ears and swaying a little. Bad timing.  
Now Steve sat down on the bed as well, making sure to move some pillows to support his back and gently chiding: “I have to count on my team to be honest with me.”  
“This has fuck-all to do with honesty.” The wounded finally exploded much to Captain America's distaste.  
“Clint! Think about Pietro.”  
“I am thinking about him. You all are blowing this way out of proportion. He probably thinks I'm close to dying or something. I'm fine or rather I will be. Stop hovering.”  
“What were you even doing? You said it didn't bleed during training and -”  
“It was my fault.” Pietro finally decided to cut in and at once drew all the attention towards himself. “I pushed him away.”  
Before anyone else could say something his mentor clarified: “It was not your fault. It was a playful shove, just caught me unprepared.” He made a motion to signal that he expected silence from the speedster and while the teen looked decidedly unhappy, he obeyed at once. Shutting his mouth with an audible clack and pressing his teeth together hard enough that the strain was visible. Resulting in drawing the focus back to Clint who directed the conversation towards different matters before anyone else could talk: “What do you say Bruce? Am I still in peak condition?”  
“I say I wish we would have been able to repair that cradle.” Their resident medical expert said drily. “Although you are indeed going to be fine if you keep to the restricted training and everything else we agreed on yesterday. Take special care if you shower.”  
“Not the first time I have stitches, doc.” Clint grinned.  
“Well,” Bruce pushed his glasses up and grinned back: “Some people actually go long enough without stitches that they tend to forget these kinds of details.”  
Natasha was clearly enjoying their mild-mannered friend’s remark. Her eyes dancing even as her best friend tried to shoot back. “What can I say, some ladies like scars.”  
And now she actually smirked. Cheerfully undermining his attempt with her next statement.  
“Oddly enough, you picked a wife who is not one of them so I think you might get in trouble when she calls.”  
“Shut up.” Hawkeye sank back against the pillows.  
“Don't think you can just change the topic.” Steve announced seriously. “ I don’t know what happened here. I can believe that Pietro might not have meant to hurt you but he knew you were injured yesterday. And if that shove strained you enough to open the wound -” their leader trailed off once he looked at the silent teen, then decided to end on a gentle admonishment: “Just be more careful, young man.”  
The junior superhero nodded guiltily and got enveloped in a hug.  
Holding him Steve added with a bit more authority: “And kid, don't doubt that there are other Avengers who will step in if you decide to defy your mentor.”  
“He wasn’t trying to fight me, Steve.” Clint felt compelled to say.  
“Well, you are not letting him speak for himself - which I loathe, by the way. But we can discuss that later.” The archer involuntarily cringed at Cap's tone. “I believe you two were in the middle of something important. So we should probably leave you to it.”  
Bruce followed the prompt at once and made his way to the door but Natasha had something else to say first: “If you pull those stitches again because you are too stubborn to ask for help, I'll kick your ass, Barton. Otherwise, I'll be happy to lend you a hand for anything you need.” She fixed Pietro with an ominous stare and repeated: “Anything.”  
After that she stalked out, leaving the men speechless in her wake.


	8. Chapter 8

Pietro’s mouth opened as soon as everyone else was gone. “That was humiliating, Clint. Of course it was my fault. You heard the Captain. I should have been more careful. I didn't even think - and Natasha was freaking scary. Why was she looking at me like that?  
I know I didn't do a good job with the first aid but it was the first time I had to do this. I am capable of helping you. It’s because you got hurt in the first place, isn't it? You would have been fine if I followed orders?”  
The Sokovian was standing close to Clint right when he finished talking and the older man pulled him down into a hug.  
“Nobody knows what would have happened if the mission had gone different. Nat is not blaming you for that. She was worried and has her own way of dealing with it.” Hawkeye pulled back to study the boy's face. “You know, I think she was suggesting that I could turn you over to her if it would be too straining to deal with you myself.” Pietro was startled and looked at him in sudden horror. So he rubbed the teenager’s shoulders a little. “Don't worry, punk. Stuck with me, remember? And I’m sure you'll at least try to behave for a while.”  
“I didn't try to get in trouble -” The speedster started but his mentor wasn't having any of it.  
“You didn't hide and got drunk to see what would happen? My memory must be playing tricks on me.” Pietro grimaced.  
“Look, I know you didn't try to misbehave on the mission, Whitey, or I might have handled things differently. _You_ would have acted differently. And I know you didn't want to hurt me right now. You didn't do anything wrong. It would have been fine under normal circumstances. I've taken way worse from Nat. You've watched us fight, you know it's true. But if you need help forgiving yourself, you know I'm here for you. I'll just freshen up and let you set up everything in the living room.”  
Clint was groaning a little as he stood and Pietro's mind started to spin fast. Set up everything. Everything they'd need. A belt flashed through his mind - but no - Clint had been talking about crashing on the couch and movies. Cuddling and fun. Only that had been before. But even if, Clint had not ever used a belt. Hadn’t even reached for it while contemplating what to do with his charge. The archer spanked with his hand, a kitchen spoon, the hairbrush or an arrow, that once in the training room. But despite the availability, he had never used a belt. No, Pietro corrected after a look, Clint didn’t even wear belts outside his uniform. A part of him had known that but how hadn’t he _noticed_ it before?  
Confused Pietro overtook the man on his way out and ran to the kitchen. He quickly mixed together some popcorn with a little oil and sugar and put it into a lunch bag to throw it into the microwave. 3 minutes. People had quirks for a reason, like not buying microwave popcorn in the store, not wearing belts or threatening to kick their best friend’s ass if that friend got injured through careless behavior. But just being quick wouldn't help him understanding why. Unless he used his power for snooping which definitely was a bad idea. He could vividly remember the outcome from he last time he’d been caught. Quicksilver rubbed his backside thoughtfully. It was still definitely feeling sore but it wasn’t worse than when he was sent to a corner after the first smacks. How long would Clint need to freshen up? Probably longer than 3 minutes. He shouldn't start the microwave program right away then or the old man would complain.  
Right now the whole spanking business was really up to him, wasn't it? He could just decide to sit down for a movie and Clint would be okay with that - at least until the meeting with Captain America.  
_“I believe you two were in the middle of something important. So we should probably leave you to it.”_  
That was what their team leader had said and he probably hadn't meant having a fun time together. So Cap had figured there was something unpleasant they needed to do. Something over which Quicksilver might want to defy his mentor. He would ask about it too. And Natasha had apparently promised she could take care of him if Clint wasn’t physically able to punish him. Both thought he deserved punishment. His heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his breast and he was flushing. Clint had been exhausted. He probably didn't feel up to do anything, like with having Wanda in his room. Completely his fault and it had been ignored. A knot was building in his stomach.  
He didn't want another spanking, Clint wanted some peace and quiet. He'd set up for the movie and nothing else. He could deal with a little guilty conscience on his own.  
   
The marksman started to smile as the gust of wind ruffled his clothes. The kid would have something to do while he pondered his options and choices.  
He was especially reluctant to insist on spanking his trainee as long as Peter always got away without that punishment. But it was the best way to deal with Pietro. And the kid had been reeking of guilt. If he knew it or not, he would be miserable without an appropriate reaction. It wouldn't do to force him to stir up real trouble to get it.  
Once in the bathroom Clint cleaned himself up with a washing cloth and lots of cold water. It was refreshing and he would be able to function. He still hadn't shaved but that would take too long and nobody would complain about it today.  
He heard the ominous sounds of somebody listening at the door and grinned. “Prepare a coffee for me, brat.”  
No acknowledgement but the coffeemaker was starting soon after.  
A coffee and a short talk. Then the boy would go over his knee.  
   
When Clint came out of the bathroom he was taken back a little. Everything prepared perfectly for fun movie time and his brat stretched out over the sofa grinning at him as if nothing was wrong. He kept his own expression neutral. The cocky little punk would show his hand soon enough.  
“Coffee still needs a moment,” Pietro blurted out, sounding a bit forced in his nonchalance, a bit nervous. He was filling glasses with water for each of them and then sipped on his, desperately trying to keep up appearances and probably aware that he failed.  
“Eavesdropping isn't a good habit, lightning.” Clint pushed a little.  
“I don’t even know how you catch me without opening the door.” Pietro complained and set his glass back on the table.  
“Experience.”  
The teenager grimaced.  
“You might be my oldest but I caught children eavesdropping way before you tried.”  
Pietro froze for a split second. “I'm not a child. And I'm not yours.” He said, crossing his arms defensively and sitting up straight.  
“I doubt you'll ever be older than me and you are most definitely one of mine.” Clint stated while he sat down beside the teenager. Pietro looked vulnerable now. And Clint opened his arms. _No time for coffee then._ He sighed, as the speedster only hesitatingly moved closer.  
“Your mind is still spinning, huh? And going in entirely the wrong directions.” Hawkeye watched the kid closely while he pulled his fingers through his hair.  
“Can't keep my thoughts from running, Clint.” It sounded miserable. There were a few things that would help in this situation but once again their options were limited.  
“You need some time at the farm. Run a couple laps around the property a few times a day. See everyone there. But you know what you also need?” Hawkeye paused meaningfully.  
Impossible wide eyes were looking at him when he finally voiced his conclusion: “A spanking.”  
“Why?” Pietro pulled back to the other end of the sofa.  
“You tell me. But I know you need it. Your head will be quiet afterwards.” He patted his lap and, despite his conviction to do the right thing, it felt a little overwhelming when the kid settled down on it. He wasn’t as much surprised as he was something else. He couldn't name the feeling though. The speedster had even bared his bottom without anything specific being said.  
   
Clint was right, Pietro realized. He did need something to get rid of this block of guilt in his stomach. So he followed the unvoiced command and soon his mentor’s calloused hand was patting his bottom while the other hand was lying on his back. The churning nervosity was gradually calming down.  
“Tell me why you feel guilty.” Clint demanded in a gentle tone of voice.  
“I,” he looked for a good way to put it, “broke the rules of my grounding.”  
And Clint started spanking quickly until Pietro yelped. Then he paused with his hand rubbing at the sore spot and after that circling all over his target area. Instead of a demand to clarify how, his mentor asked him: “Did you do it on purpose?” Pietro shook his head and received two sharp smacks to his under curve for his trouble. “Use your words.”  
“No, Clint.” The nineteen-year-old started to sniffle, “Not on purpose.”  
“Good. But that's not everything, is it?” Again the hand was rubbing the worst of the sting away. Once he spoke up that would stop.  
SMACK “Pietro?”  
“Ouch,” he whined.  
“That was not everything that's making you feel guilty. Am I right?”  
“I hurt you.” It was only a whisper.  
“Unintentionally. But yes.” Clint's hand fell relentlessly for a while and the man kept up talking the whole time for this. “You were under shock. But you still went for help. Brought me the first aid kit. Helped me as best as you could and I'm proud of you.”  
Pietro was tearing up. “It was my fault you got hurt,” he choked out, “put everyone at risk.” Clint sighed, shifting him to focus the next swats on the part of his bottom where he would sit down. Pietro kicked a few times and sniffled but he only started crying for real when strong arms pulled him up into a warm embrace. Whatever Clint was saying got lost in a haze of clinging to the older man and sobbing his heart out.  
He became aware of the world again a little later. Clint was holding him tightly and gently swayed from side to side. Pietro couldn't hold in a yawn and his mentor chuckled. “We really didn't get a lot of sleep, Whitey. Settle down on the couch, head to me. You're a good kid. A hero.”  
“I'll get your pants all snotty and gross.” He mumbled, lying down on his side and ineffectively wiping at the mess on his face with his hand. Clint handed him a tissue.  
“It'll wash. Just like the shirt. Don't know why I bothered with a fresh one.”  
“Because you're becoming accustomed to higher standards.”  
“Come here, you brat.” The teenager was confused for a moment but Clint only tousled his locks. Pietro rolled his eyes and put his hands up to protect his head.  
“Want some lotion now?”  
“I want something to drink.” Clint stilled and it dawned on the speedster how that had sounded. “Water. I'm talking about water.”  
“You'd better be.” The older man got up and stretched a bit before taking Pietro's glass from the table and making sure it was full. He gave it to the teen and quickly had it back in his hand. Empty.  
“Feeling better?” He asked while he refilled it and handed it over again.  
The boy nodded but the question prompted him to slowly reach back and rub at the sting. When Clint turned to go to his room however, he suddenly had the speedster in his way.  
“Don't go, please.”  
“I'm just -”  
The kid was shaking his head. “Don't go.”  
He wondered if he should argue further but he didn't have the heart to fight as Pietro pulled him back towards the couch. He really should have had everything in the room before he started. Maybe he should carry something soothing with him at all times, he thought while he resumed petting the boy’s hair.  
   
It took a while into the movie until the silence was broken: ”Clint? Why do you never buy the microwave popcorn?”  
“Self-made is cheaper and tastes better.” It sounded definite although there undoubtedly would be people who disagreed. Pietro wasn’t convinced it was true but he could hardly argue. He’d never had the other kind after all.  
So he simply hummed in response: “Hmm.”  
Clint smiled suddenly and decided to tell a bit more: “Back when Laura was pregnant the first time. She started to freak out a bit about toxins in the packaging. I don't know if it's a valid concern. She never brought it up again but she was constantly craving all these different things and popcorn was right on top of the list. She loved that I could show her this way of making it. It's nice - remembering that I could help her. Sometimes you can’t solve the big things but you can help with the small stuff.”  
“Hmmmmm.”  
“What’s bothering you, lightning?” His mentor asked concerned.  
“I’m just wondering.”  
“About what?”  
“About many things.” The teenager kept being vague and probably needed some time until he could decide when and how to voice whatever was bothering him.  
Hawkeye decided to change the topic: “Are you ready for something that’ll actually help you heal?”  
“Clint, maybe Mr. Stark has a point. Maybe it’s not right to hand me cushions and stuff. I did something bad and I need to concentrate on not running on instinct but thinking things through. Use my head.”  
It was no wonder that the Sokovian avoided thinking with the kind of conclusions his brain arrived at. The older man knew exactly how that felt even if he wasn't sure how to fix it. He still tried: “If Tony knew what he was talking about he would have spanked Peter by now. Don’t listen to him. Not on this. Just because he’s a genius doesn’t mean he knows everything.”  
“Obviously." Pietro stated with an arrogance that he hadn't shown for a while. "Just saying he might have a point.”  
“Well, I’m the one who’s in charge of you and I say you’ve been through enough.” Clint was almost sure that would close the issue and there was a pause before Pietro grumbled: “You might be alone with that opinion.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You know what I mean. Why else didn't you want me to talk with the others?” The kid sounded annoyed and Clint resolved to stay calm.  
“I wanted you to be silent because sometimes it's easier to make things clear in a talk one on one. I didn't want to drag things out by having a big discussion about what happened, how and why.”  
“It's not complicated.”  
“No. But it gets more complicated if there are people talking over each other and it most definitely is easier to get my point across if _you_ aren't letting your mouth run and insist it's your fault when you didn't do anything wrong. Honestly, kid.”  
“Cap was right in saying I knew you were hurt.”  
“You didn't think about that though, did you?”  
“Of course not. That’s the problem.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I never think things through and I should have. I should always keep in mind how others are feeling especially with people from the team.”  
“And I should have taken care of the stitches sooner. I had the opportunity, as was pointed out. But we don't live in an ideal world.”  
“That’s not the same.”  
“It’s similar. There were eleven people in the jet yesterday. That’s a lot. Even if you only tried to keep track of your sister, Nat and me,” Clint shook his head, “I want you to be happy and healthy. That includes being able to relax and simply follow your impulses now and then. Thinking is good, overthinking is a hindrance.”  
“It feels as if you’re making this stuff up as you go along.”  
“I know, kiddo. Nobody gave me a handbook either.”


	9. Chapter 9

Despite the rather straining session in the morning Natasha Romanoff, currently better known as the Black Widow although she had been known by a lot of names, was running herself through a rigorous set of exercises. Her emotions didn't show on the outside or at least they only showed to the exact same amount that was intended. Clint would know of course - by now so would any one of the Avengers except maybe Thor or Peter who effectively was still on probation. Natasha stopped and thought for a moment. Her instincts were screaming at her. Nobody was supposed to know her that well, having one weak spot had been bad enough now there were several, a whole group of people, even kids. It took her a moment to shrug the impulse away. She had known the risks and hadn't tried to hide her special bond with Clint. The first chip in her armour. The others didn't make things worse and finding her best friend bleeding because he underestimated one of his wounds was a very straightforward reason to be pissed. Anger was better than fear after all. Even if she knew how annoying the wait for a clear bill of health could be. He should have - at least come to her. But of course he didn't. Too wrapped up in taking care of someone else to take care of himself. Her anger vanished suddenly. Bruce had tried to stay with her at first but excused himself back to his studies long before now. Not that Natasha minded him running from her. It was the sensible thing to do and he wasn't part of this particular fight. 

 

Tony Stark was working in his lab. He could have sworn he had had the right idea months ago. It should have been long finished. The reality crushed into his mind before he saw the date on the schematic - the day Pepper had broken up with him. He had banned it from his mind but that was no excuse to neglect a basic design flaw in something that was this important for the team. Gritting his teeth he started working on it right away. 

 

Meanwhile Wanda Maximoff had found refuge in a book. The intense emotions of the last few days had taken a toll even before the most recent drama. Pietro had sent her a message about the grounding being over and making up with Clint and she was thankful when the worst of her brother's guilt was dealt with but still too tired to be around people. Even the short visit of their team leader just made her want to hide. On this rare occasion she welcomed the peace and quiet of being alone. 

 

Peter Parker felt differently. After his brilliant plan to cheer up Quicksilver had failed Wanda had excused herself to take a shower and never returned. Mr Stark had flat out told him to bother somebody else and then there had been an alarm when he was trying to work with Doctor Banner. The scientist ordered him to stay back and stormed out to get his medical supplies. He hadn't dared to try anybody else. None of his friends answered their phone. Even Aunt May was out doing something and the last time he went outside by himself - well, he never wanted to see any of the Avengers that angry again. Especially not Captain America. Nobody had time for him.

 

Captain Steve Rogers, first Avenger and World War II veteran, was suppressing the urge to pace the floor. He was expecting Hawkeye and Quicksilver in his office. Black Widow’s alarm had raised him just as he‘d been about to fall asleep and his attempt to find rest after the incident hadn’t been overly successful. At least he had used the time somewhat constructively.  
He simply couldn’t think of _any_ good reason for Clint to order Pietro to stay silent about whatever happened between them nor for not mentioning the changed status of his wound. During the last year he had almost forgotten how reckless Hawkeye could be. Things had changed since the man had accepted the responsibility of being a mentor. Thinking about the marksman’s behaviour like this, Steve suddenly saw that exploding blender and the salted coffee in a new light. Before the kids moved to the tower Barton would have been the first suspect if something like this had happened. The security footage had been deleted. But that only seemed to confirm his new suspicion. None of the children would be likely to think about that or do it the same way. Similarly, the evidence pointed away from any of the other adults. He hadn't expected that childishness from a responsible family father but - there was more than one reason none of them would have suspected the archer of having children before they met his family. The man had often seemed like an adolescent himself after he recovered from the brainwashing. The recent events had clearly brought Clint to the end of his professionalism and Steve had to admit that there had seemed to be an enormous strain on the other man for a while now. Especially since Peter had moved in. 

That first evening of welcoming Peter into the tower Pietro had actually claimed he wasn’t hungry. That had been a first. Their speedster was usually hungry and the twins had always eaten their meals without fussing much. They even openly enjoyed Clint's kitchen experiments. Admittedly Steve liked those too, in general, and he suspected the same was true of the others. However, Clint had always seemed to enjoy the impression of grossing other people out so griping about his cooking had become a constant in the tower long before the twins arrived. 

Thanks to the fifteen-year-old’s babbling this morning, he had been provided with a pretty vivid image of the reason Quicksilver had wanted to postpone the first official meeting with their newest recruit back then. But despite the soreness and spending the next day on his stomach, Pietro had seemed happy. He had never sought out attention from the whole team the way Spider-Man did and tended to avoid situations where he'd be in the spotlight. But in the last weeks he seemed to have withdrawn even more. He had the option to zip away quickly if he started to feel uncomfortable and he had made use of it from the beginning. Wanda was more social than her brother but she wasn't half as outgoing as Peter Parker. Giving the twins space to get more comfortable in the tower had worked so far but it was probably about time they did a few more things together than just training, fighting and the occasional meals.

It was hard to imagine the issues a kid must have to ask for a harsh official punishment over the familiar discipline of a close mentor. He sat down to cradle his head in his hands.This whole thing was a few notches above anything Captain America had had to handle before. Still he had been asked to help. If he believed Clint's assessment the current dilemma had a lot to do with Tony's reluctance to discipline his own protégé himself.  
As he waited, Steve started to wonder if maybe he should have taken the offer to see for himself how Hawkeye dealt with the fledgling superhero in his care. But it had felt wrong. Just like it would be wrong to scold one of the kids after there had already been a scolding.

 

Finally there was a knock on his door and both of his teammates entered. Clint had schooled his features into a neutral expression and Pietro still seemed nervous but much more relaxed than he’d been earlier. Steve gestured that they should take seats and noticed that the teenager had a bit more trouble sitting down now. He looked adorable trying to discreetly squirm into a comfortable position and the sight made Steve’s expression soften automatically as he felt a wave of protectiveness and love for the young hero.  
He came out from behind his desk and instead casually leaned against it for this talk. His arms crossed in front of his chest, as he directed his attention to the former agent first:  
“Hawkeye, you should know that reports on deterioration in a healing process should be done ASAP. Those are pretty much standing orders. You requested some time away and I think this might be the perfect moment because I am tempted to suspend you from training right now.” Clint looked as if he was about to object but Steve simply continued talking: “I know you're cleared for most exercises I'm just saying I am tempted. Maybe you should keep in mind that I could pull rank and suspend you if I cannot trust you to take care of yourself.” The marksman reacted with a blank look that he only seemed to adopt in the face of orders he still needed to consider so it was probably best to address the actual teenager now.  
Captain America softened his expression and voice when he turned to the younger member of the team:  
“Quicksilver? You and me will work on following orders. Special training. It's going to be hard - all-out , like in the field - I won't tolerate any excuses to slack off.” Pietro looked confused and glanced towards Clint, as if to get confirmation for something. The marksman was still concentrating on their team leader though. Pietro's breathing quickened as he started to become more agitated. Steve continued just after the archer put one of his hands on the boy's knee to calm the speedster down. “That will of course have to wait until you both are back.” Pietro's head shot up. Maybe the kid had assumed he wouldn't be allowed to go as part of his punishment? A separation from his mentor was the last thing that would help with the situation. The soldier softened his demeanor even more. “You never showed this behavior in the field before. We had some problems during training but you always managed when it mattered most. I was happy to see you follow Hawkeye’s orders without further problems - although I have to stress that I don't think commands should be used outside of battle and training situations.” He fixed Clint with another look and was able to continue uninterrupted. “In our lives off-duty, everyone should be able to say their mind freely. Apparently I don't say this often enough but: We are a family,” the archer started to smile and squeezed Pietro's knee in a gesture of reassurance as the teen’s eyes widened. Steve’s chest hurt just seeing the utter disbelief flicker over the adolescent face, but still he heard himself go on calmly, “I know that means something to you. Families are there to help. We talk. We solve our problems together. I am aware there are still difficulties - growing pains, maybe. We just need to work through them. Together. A year has gone by fast all things considered.” He paused, allowing himself a moment to muse about the things that had happened during that year before getting to the core of this talk: “Most importantly, I'd like to make sure that you know the discipline you have to face will always be as fair and measured as possible - not just a punishment but something to help you get better. Do you understand?”  
Pietro nodded, steeling himself to meet his eyes: “I put people in danger. Civilians, the team - Clint wants to protect me but -” He hesitated, searching for the right way to put it in words. Finally he frowned and looked to the floor, squirming uncomfortably in his seat.  
Steve had hoped he wouldn't need to spell it out but maybe the message hadn't been clear enough. “I just told you that we are a family, child. We don't whip people here.”  
For some reason that made the Sokovian even more uncomfortable. A blush shot to his face. “You can’t tell the press I was spanked like a little kid. That's just not -” The hand on his knee might have been the only thing that kept Quicksilver in his seat. He seemed torn by the building need to move.  
“We don't tell the press anything about it. This is not a public issue,” came the vehement declaration of the American Icon. Hawkeye spoke more softly:  
“Is that what you are worried about, lightning? I doubt any of the reporters knows you acted against orders and nobody was hurt.”  
“ _You_ were hurt. Nat, too.” The pain in the young voice was raw and overwhelming. It was impressive that Clint didn’t seem to miss a beat in the face of it.  
“I meant none of the hostages and everyone is going to be fine.” He stated soothingly, pulling Pietro into a one armed hug. The teenager curled towards his mentor and buried his face against his shoulder.  
“It would've been my fault.” He mumbled mournfully. Clint tightened his grip and pressed a kiss into the mop of silver locks. Steve cleared his throat:  
“You made a mistake. And we'll make sure it won't happen again. I've talked to Tony and he'll work on a special earpiece for you. You'll be able to communicate with us at any speed. The prototype should be ready for our training sessions.”  
Pietro looked up at him, speechless for the moment.  
“You've done so well with the normal earpiece that it was easy to forget about your problems with it. It's a good thing it came up before there was more serious trouble. If there are similar problems with your other equipment you should tell us about them so we can work on a solution.”  
“No, it’s fine. I don't need anything special.”  
“Think it through, you are smart and you know how important even a small difference can be, especially with your powers. A second could be crucial. When you find something that could be improved, talk to Tony. If nothing else it might help you avoid getting in trouble in the future.”  
Pietro was blushing harder and even Clint's ears were a bit pink now though his expression had gone back to neutral.  
“Is there anything else we need to discuss?” Steve tried to end the meeting.  
Pietro clearly wanted to go but Clint needed to get something off his chest: “Just to be clear, I did plan to renew the stitches, I'm not an idiot.”  
The petulant statement could lead to a confrontation. As unplanned, unnecessary and unpleasant as the medical emergency that was the spark behind it.  
“Do you really want to get into that in front of the kid, Hawkeye?”  
Instead of his question dousing the flame it made it flare up high: “What? You think he’ll lose respect for one of us if he sees you yell at me for being stupid?”  
Gritting his teeth, Steve Rogers recognised the challenge and inevitability of a fight. He planted his feet, metaphorically and literally, and refused to give up control: “I won’t yell at you. But this is still me as the team leader and not me as your friend.”  
Although they both knew he'd have something to say about it in both positions.  
“Look,” Clint tried more subdued, “I know in retrospect it wasn’t the right decision but I wanted to be quick and as good as a nurse you are, you know I prefer a bit of a female touch.” A cocky grin to lighten the atmosphere but Steve didn’t budge and the grin vanished as the agent’s training took over. “It was a miscalculation. I'll try to keep in mind how it worked out if I'm in a similar situation in the future but I can't make promises. And I don't regret giving an order to avoid a complete meltdown in that heated situation. If Pietro had continued, you'd all have started to lose it. That would've made things even worse.”  
The last at least was a valid point even if it didn’t have anything to do with the cause of the wound and their current discussion: “I know you're more comfortable with Nat, yes. But if the argument was losing time, you should have told me right before we started discussing things. You can talk while getting stitches but you can't take care of someone else if you don't take care of yourself.”  
“I know that.” Hawkeye exploded again but the only one fazed by his anger was his charge.  
“You didn’t act like it!” Captain America immediately replied. “It was an unnecessary risk to your health.”  
Silence stretched out and they wondered what could be said to make sure the incident was left in the past.  
“You are usually good about thinking of all the angles. I thought I could trust you to set a good example.”  
It hurt and prompted a snide answer: “Well, that should have been the first clue that something is wrong.”  
“Clint?” Pietro sounded worried and his question broke the tense atmosphere.  
“Sorry, Whitey. But you are old enough to know that everyone makes mistakes. You should know that there are better people to idolise than an old man without superpowers. Tasha could tell you that I need my ass kicked regularly to stay even remotely responsible. I don't even set a good example on table manners if I'm left on my own.”  
The leader of the Avengers didn’t hide his smirk: “I guess I should take a page out of Romanoff’s book then but that will have to wait until you're healed.”  
“What about no double jeopardy?” Clint protested.  
“You’re not one of the kids and you just claimed you'd need it.”  
“It's still unfair.” The archer grumbled while his trainee seemed eager to pull him out of the study before another altercation could be started.  
Finally, the door closed behind them and things could return to the peculiar normalcy of living in a tower full of superheroes.


End file.
